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diff --git a/5618-h/5618-h.htm b/5618-h/5618-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d81057 --- /dev/null +++ b/5618-h/5618-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13148 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Six Plays, by Florence Henrietta Darwin</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Six Plays, by Florence Henrietta Darwin, +Edited by Cecil Sharp + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Six Plays + + +Author: Florence Henrietta Darwin + +Editor: Cecil Sharp + +Release Date: December 18, 2014 [eBook #5618] +[This file was first posted on July 23, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX PLAYS*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1921 W. Heffer & Sons edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" + src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/fpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Florence Henrietta Darwin" +title= +"Florence Henrietta Darwin" + src="images/fps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>SIX PLAYS<br /> +By <span class="smcap">Florence Henrietta Darwin</span><br /> +and an Introduction by <span class="smcap">Cecil +Sharp</span></h1> +<p style="text-align: center">Memoir and Portrait of the +Author</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>W. HEFFER & SONS LTD.,<br /> +CAMBRIDGE, 1921.</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center"><b>SIX PLAYS</b></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +FLORENCE HENRIETTA DARWIN</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">The Plays may be had in paper +covers at<br /> +<b>1s.</b> <b>6d</b>. net as under</p> +<p>1. LOVERS’ TASKS</p> +<p>2. BUSHES & BRIARS</p> +<p>3. MY MAN JOHN</p> +<p>4. PRINCESS ROYAL }</p> +<p>5. THE SEEDS OF LOVE } In one volume</p> +<p>6. THE NEW YEAR</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">W. HEFFER & SONS LTD.<br /> +CAMBRIDGE</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +v</span>INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">have</span> been asked to write a few +lines of introduction to these volumes of Country Plays, and I do +so, not because I can claim any right to speak with authority on +the subject of drama, but in order that I may associate myself +and express my sympathy with the endeavour which the author has +made to restore to his rightful estate the English peasant with +whom my work for twenty years or more has brought me into close +relations.</p> +<p>There have been few serious attempts to depict English country +life on the stage. Nor, for that matter, can it be said +that the English peasant has fared over well in our +literature. Nevertheless, the English countryman has +qualities all his own, no less distinctive nor less engaging than +those of his Irish, Scottish, Russian, or Continental neighbours, +even though his especial characteristics have hitherto been for +the most part either ignored or grossly travestied by the +playwright. Now in these plays, as it seems to me, he has +at last come into his own kingdom and is painted, perhaps for the +first time on the stage, in his true colours, neither caricatured +on the one hand, nor, on the other, sentimentalised, but +faithfully portrayed by a peculiarly sympathetic and skilful +hand.</p> +<p>It is well, too, that an authentic record should be preserved +of the life that has been lived in our country villages year in +year out for centuries before its last vestiges—and they +are all that now remain—have been completely submerged in +the oncoming tide of modern civilisation and progress. +Moreover, the songs and dances of the English peasantry that have +become widely known in the last few years have awakened a <a +name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. vi</span>general +interest and curiosity in all that concerns the lives and habits +of country people and there are many who will be glad to know +what manner of men and women were they who created things of so +rare and delicate a beauty.</p> +<p>These plays are very simple plays. With one exception, +“The New Year,” they rest for their effects upon +dialogue rather than upon dramatic action or plot. There is +nothing harrowing, problematical, or pathological about any of +them. The stories are as simple, obvious and naïve, +and have the same happy endings as those which the folk delight +to sing about in their own songs, and from which, indeed, judging +by the titles she has given to her plays, the author drew her +inspiration.</p> +<p>It will be noticed that Lady Darwin has eliminated dialect +from the speech which she has put into the mouths of her +characters. This is not because the English villager has no +vernacular of his own—there are as many dialects in England +as there are counties—but because dialect, as no doubt Lady +Darwin knew full well, is not of the essence of speech. It +is the way in which language is used for the purpose of +expression, the order in which words are strung together, the +subtle, elusive turns of speech, the character of its figures and +metaphors, rather than local peculiarities of intonation and +pronunciation, which betray and illumine character. And it +is upon these, the essential characteristics of speech, that the +author of these plays has wisely and, for the most part, wholly, +relied to give life and character to the actors of her +dramas. The results she has achieved by these means is +nothing less than amazing. So accurately has she caught the +peculiar inflections, the inversions, the curious meanderings and +involutions of peasant speech, so penetrating—uncanny at +times—is her insight into the structure and working of the +peasant mind, that, did one not know that this was scarcely the +fact, one would have been tempted to suspect that the author had +herself been born and bred <a name="pagevii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. vii</span>in a country village and lived all +her days amongst those whose characters and habits of mind she +has described with such fidelity.</p> +<p>Take, for instance, the lesson on courtship which My Man John +gives to his master—is not the actual phrasing almost +photographic in its accuracy? Note, too, the frequent use +of homely metaphor:—</p> +<blockquote><p>’Tis with the maids as ’tis with the +fowls when they be come out from moult. They be bound to +pick about this way and that in their new feathers.</p> +<p>I warrant she be gone shy as a May bettel when ’tis +daylight.</p> +<p>Ah, you take and let her go quiet, same as I lets th’ +old mare when her first comes up from grass.</p> +<p>I likes doing things my own way, mother. Womenfolk, they +be so buzzing. ’Tis like a lot of insects around of +any one on a summer’s day. A-saying this way and +that—whilst a man do go at everything quiet and +calm-like.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and the following typical sentences:—</p> +<blockquote><p>Well, mother, I count I’m back a smartish +bit sooner nor what you did expect.</p> +<p>There was a cow—well, ’tis a smartish lot of cows +as I’ve seen in my time, but this one, why, the king +haven’t got the match to she in all his great palace, and +that’s the truth, so ’tis.</p> +<p>I bain’t one as can judge of that, my lord, seeing that +I be got a poor old badger of a man, and the days when I was +young and did carry a heart what could beat with love, be ahind +of I, and the feel of them clean forgot.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The task of selection has not been an easy one. +“The New Year” is the only Country play on large and +ambitious lines which Lady Darwin left behind her, and it is on +this account, as well as for its own merits, which I venture to +think are very considerable, that it has been included. +“Princess Royal” was <a name="pageviii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. viii</span>written for a special occasion, and +is frankly more conventional and artificial than the others, but +it will nevertheless appeal to folk-dancers, and for that reason, +rather than perhaps for its intrinsic value, room has been found +for it. The remaining four are, in their several ways, +typical of the author’s work, and I for one have little +doubt but that they will make a wide appeal, more especially +perhaps to those simple-minded people (of whom I am persuaded +there are many, even in these latter-days) who are able to +appreciate the unpretentious beauty of an art that is well-nigh +artless in its simplicity. Some of them may be too slight +in design, too delicate in texture, their beauty too elusive, to +succeed on the professional stage; I do not know. But there +is a large demand for plays of a non-professional character; and +that Lady Darwin’s will be acted with pleasure and listened +to with delight in hut or hall or country-house of a +winter’s evening, I cannot doubt.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">CECIL SHARP.</p> +<h2><a name="pageix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +ix</span>FLORENCE HENRIETTA DARWIN</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Florence Henrietta Fisher</span> was born +at 3, Onslow Square, London, in the year 1864; but to those of a +younger generation it seemed that nearly the whole of her youth +had been spent in the New Forest, so largely did it figure in her +stories of the past. It was at Whitley Ridge, Brockenhurst, +that her earliest plays were written, and many marvellous +characters created; their names still live. It was there +that she became a very good violin player, as well as a musician +in a wider sense. It was in Brockenhurst Church that, in +1886, she married Frederic William Maitland, later Downing +professor of the laws of England.</p> +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Maitland lived in Cambridge; for the first two +years at Brookside, and afterwards in the West Lodge of Downing +College.</p> +<p>Along with her love of music there had begun, and there +continued a love of animals, and, from Moses, a dog of +Brockenhurst days, there stretched down a long procession of +dogs, cats, monkeys, foxes, moles, merecats, mongeese, bush cats +and marmosets, accompanied by a variety of birds. If such a +thing as a dumb animal has ever existed it certainly was not one +of hers, for, besides what they were able to say for themselves, +they spoke much through her. Not only were they able to +recount all that had happened to them in past home or jungle, +they were perfectly able to give advice in every situation and to +join in every discussion. Neither were their pens less +ready than their tongues, and many were the letters of flamboyant +script and misspelt word that came forth from cage or basket.</p> +<p>Frederic William Maitland possessed a small property at +Brookthorpe, Gloucestershire; and near this property, in a house +in the village of Edge and at the top of the Horsepools hill, he +and his wife and their two children <a name="pagex"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. x</span>spent most of their holidays. +They were happy days. Animals increased in number and +rejoiced in freedom, fairs were attended, dancing bears and bird +carts came at intervals to the door, gipsies were delighted in +and protected, and it was there that many friendships with +country people were made. Several days a week would find +Mrs. Maitland driving down to Brookthorpe in donkey or pony cart +to see tenants, to enquire for or feed the sick, to visit the +school, to advise and be advised in the many difficulties of +human life. With a wonderful memory and power of +reproducing that which she had heard, she brought back rare +harvest from these expeditions. All through her days she +was told more in a week than many people hear in a life-time.</p> +<p>After much illness, Professor Maitland was told that he must +leave England, and in 1898 the Maitlands set sail to the island +of Grand Canary; and it was there that they spent each winter, +with the exception of one in Madeira, until Professor +Maitland’s death in 1906. The beauty and warmth of +the island were a joy to Mrs. Maitland, washing out all the +difficulties of housekeeping and the labour of cooking. The +day of hardest work still left her time to set forth, accompanied +by a faithful one-legged hen, to seek the shade of chestnut or +loquat tree, and there to write. The song of frogs rising +from watery palm grove, the hot dusty scent of pepper tree, the +cool scent of orange, the mountains sharp and black against the +evening sky, the brightly coloured houses crowded to the brink of +still brighter sea, were all things she loved, and their images +remained with her always. She became an expert talker of +what she called kitchen Spanish, and her store of country history +increased greatly, for, from Candelaria, the washer-woman to Don +Luis the grocer, she met no one who was not ready to tell her all +the marvels that ever they knew.</p> +<p>In 1906 Frederic William Maitland landed on the island too ill +to reach the house that Mrs. Maitland had gone out earlier to +prepare for him. He was taken to an <a +name="pagexi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xi</span>hotel in the +city of Las Palmas, and there, on December the 19th, he died.</p> +<p>In the spring of 1907 Mrs. Maitland returned to England.</p> +<p>In 1909 she added on to a small farm house at Brookthorpe, and +there she went to live. She was thus able to renew many +friendships, and in some slight degree take up the life that had +been so dear to her. It was during these last eleven years +at Brookthorpe that she wrote all her plays dealing with country +people; the first for a class of village children to whom she +taught singing, the later ones in response to a growing demand +not only from other Gloucestershire villages, but from village +clubs and institutes scattered over a large part of +England. She saw several of her plays acted by the Oakridge +and the Sapperton players, and these performances and letters +from other performers gave her great pleasure.</p> +<p>In 1913 she married Sir Francis Darwin. Their life at +Brookthorpe was varied by months spent at his house in +Cambridge. It was there that she died on March 5th, +1920.</p> +<p>During her last years she had much illness to contend +with. Unable to play her violin, she turned to the +spinet. She practised for hours, wrote plays, and attended +to her house when many would have lain in their beds.</p> +<p>Her religion became of increasingly great comfort and interest +to her, and it was in that light that she came, more and more, to +look at all things.</p> +<p>In the minds of many who knew her in those years rose up the +words: I have fought a good fight.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">E. M.</p> +<h2>THE LOVERS’ TASKS</h2> +<h3>CHARACTERS</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Farmer Daniel</span>,</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, <i>his wife</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>, <i>her daughter</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>, <i>his niece</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>, <i>Annet’s sister</i>, +<i>aged ten</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>, <i>their brother</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>, <i>a rich young +farmer</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">John,</span> <i>servants to Giles</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">An Old Man</span>.</p> +<h3>ACT I.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The parlour at Camel +Farm</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Time</i>: <i>An afternoon in +May</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> <i>is sewing by the table +with</i> <span class="smcap">Annet</span>. <i>At the open +doorway</i> <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>is polishing a +bright mug</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. [<i>Looking +up</i>.] There’s Uncle, back from the Fair.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Looking out of the +door</i>.] O Uncle’s got some rare big packets in his +arms, he has.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Put down that mug +afore you damage it, May; and, Annet, do you go and help your +uncle in.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Setting down the +mug</i>.] O let me go along of her too—[<span +class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>rises and goes to the door followed +by</i> <span class="smcap">May</span>, <i>who has dropped her +polishing leather upon the ground</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. [<i>Picking it up +and speaking to herself in exasperation</i>.] If ever there +was a careless little wench, ’tis she. I never did +hold with the bringing up of other folks children and if +I’d had my way, ’tis to the poor-house they’d +have went, instead of coming here where I’ve enough to do +with my own.</p> +<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Farmer</span> <i>comes in +followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">May</span> <i>carrying large parcels</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well Mother, I count +I’m back a smartish bit sooner nor what you did expect.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I’m not one +that can be taken by surprise, Dan. May, lay that parcel on +the table at once, and put away your uncle’s hat and +overcoat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dan</span>. Nay, the +overcoat’s too heavy for the little maid—I’ll +hang it up myself.</p> +<p>[<i>He takes off his coat and goes out into the passage to +hang it up</i>. <i>May runs after him with his hat</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. I do want to know +what’s in all those great packets, Aunt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I daresay +you’ll be told all in good season. Here, take up and +get on with that sewing, I dislike to see young people idling +away their time.</p> +<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Farmer</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">May</span> <i>come back</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And now, untie the +packets quickly, uncle.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. [<i>Sinking into a +big chair</i>.] Not so fast, my little maid, not so +fast—’tis a powerful long distance as I have +journeyed this day, and ’tis wonderful warm for the time of +year.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I don’t hold +with drinking nor with taking bites atween meals, but as your +uncle has come a good distance, and the day is warm, you make +take the key of the pantry, Annet, and draw a glass of cider for +him.</p> +<p>[<i>She takes the key from her pocket and hands it to</i> +<span class="smcap">Annet</span>, <i>who goes out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. That’s it, +Mother—that’s it. And when I’ve wetted my +mouth a bit I’ll be able the better to tell you all about +how ’twas over there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O I’d dearly like +to go to a Fair, I would. You always said that you’d +take me the next time you went, Uncle.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah and so I did, but +when I comed to think it over, Fairs baint the place for little +maids, I says to mother here—and no, that they baint, she +answers back. But we’ll see how ’tis when you +be growed a bit older, like. Us’ll see how +’twill be then, won’t us Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I wouldn’t +encourage the child in her nonsense, if I was you, Dan. +She’s old enough to know better than to ask to be taken to +such places. Why in all my days I never set my foot within +a fair, pleasure or business, nor wanted to, either.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And never rode on the +pretty wood horses, Aunt, all spotted and with scarlet bridles to +them?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Certainly +not. I wonder at your asking such a question, May. +But you do say some very unsuitable things for a little child of +your age.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And did you get astride +of the pretty horses at the Fair, Uncle?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Nay, nay,—they +horses be set in the pleasure part of the Fair, and where I goes +’tis all for doing business like.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>comes back with the glass +of cider</i>. <span class="smcap">Daniel</span> <i>takes it +from her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. +[<i>Drinking</i>.] You might as well have brought the jug, +my girl.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. No, Father, +’twill spoil your next meal as it is.</p> +<p>[<i>The girls sit down at the table</i>, <i>taking up their +work</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. [<i>Putting down his +glass</i>.] But, bless my soul, yon was a Fair in a +hundred. That her was.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Both Girls</span>. O do tell us of +all that you did see there, Uncle.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. There was a +cow—well, ’tis a smartish lot of cows as I’ve +seen in my time, but this one, why, the King haven’t got +the match to she in all his great palace, and that’s the +truth, so ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. O don ’t tell us +about the cows, Uncle, we want to know about all the other +things.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. The shows of acting +folk, and the wild animals, and the nice sweets.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. They don’t +want to hear about anything sensible, Dan. They’re +like all the maids now, with their thoughts set on pleasuring and +foolishness.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, the maids was +different in our day, wasn’t they Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And that they +were. Why, when I was your age, Annet, I should have been +ashamed if I couldn’t have held my own in any proper or +suitable conversation.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, you was a rare +sensible maid in your day, Mother. Do you mind when you +comed along of me to Kingham sale? “You’re +never going to buy an animal with all that white to it,” +Dan, you says to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Ah—I +recollect.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. “’Tis +true her has a whitish leg,” I says, “but so have I, +and so have you, Mother—and who’s to think the worse +on we for that?” Ah, I could always bring you round +to look at things quiet and reasonable in those days—that I +could.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And a good thing +if there were others of the same pattern now, I’m +thinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. So ’twould +be—so ’twould be. But times do bring changes in +the forms of the cattle and I count ’tis the same with the +womenfolk. ’Tis one thing this year and ’tis +t’other in the next.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Do tell us more of what +you did see at the Fair, Uncle.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. There was a +ram. My word! but the four feet of he did cover a good two +yards of ground; just as it might be, standing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Come, Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. And the horns upon +the head of he did reach out very nigh as far as might do the +sails of one of they old wind-mills.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O Uncle, and how was it +with the wool of him?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. The wool, my wench, +did stand a good three foot from all around of the animal. +You might have set a hen with her eggs on top of it—and +that you might. And now I comes to recollect how +’twas, you could have set a hen one side of the wool and a +turkey t’other.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O Uncle, that must have +been a beautiful animal! And what was the tail of it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. The tail, my little +maid? Why ’twas longer nor my arm and as thick +again—’twould have served as a bell rope to the great +bell yonder in Gloucester church—and so +’twould. Ah, ’twas sommat like a tail, I +reckon, yon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Come, Father, such +talk is hardly suited to little girls, who should know better +than to ask so many teasing questions.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. ’Tisn’t +only May, Aunt, I do love to hear what uncle tells, when he has +been out for a day or two.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And did you have +company on the way home, Father?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. That I did. +’Twas along of young Andrew as I did come back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Along of +Andrew? Girls, you may now go outside into the garden for a +while. Yes, put aside your work.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Can’t we stop till +the packets are opened?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. You heard what I +said? Go off into the garden, and stop there till I send +for you. And take uncle’s glass and wash it at the +spout as you go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Taking the +glass</i>.] I’ll wash it, Aunt. Come May, you +see aunt doesn’t want us any longer.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Now they’re going +to talk secrets together. O I should dearly love to hear +the secrets of grown-up people. [<span +class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">May</span> <i>go out together</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Annet be got a fine +big wench, upon my word. Now haven’t her, Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. She’s got +old enough to be put to service, and if I’d have had my +way, ’tis to service she’d have gone this long time +since, and that it is.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. ’Twould be poor +work putting one of dead sister’s wenches out to service, +so long as us have a roof over the heads of we and plenty to eat +on the table.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Well, you must +please yourself about it Father, as you do most times. But +’tis uncertain work taking up with other folks children as +I told you from the first. See what a lot of trouble you +and me have had along of Giles.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Giles be safe enough +in them foreign parts where I did send him. You’ve no +need to trouble your head about he, Mother—unless +’tis a letter as he may have got sending to Mill.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. No, Father, Giles +has never sent a letter since the day he left home. But +very often there is no need for letters to keep remembrance +green. ’Tis a plant what thrives best on a soil that +is bare.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well, Mother, and +what be you a-driving at? I warrant as Mill have got over +them notions as she did have once. And, look you here, +’twas with young Andrew as I did journey back from the +Fair. And he be a-coming up presently for to get his +answer.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. All I say is that +I hope he may get it then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, I reckon as +’tis rare put about as he have been all this long while, +and never a downright “yes” to what he do ask.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>comes softly in and hides +behind the door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Well, that’s +not my fault, Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. But her’ll have +to change her note this day, that her’ll have. For +I’ve spoke for she, and ’tis for next month as +I’ve pitched the wedding day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And you may pitch, +Father. You may lead the mare down to the pond, but +she’ll not drink if she hasn’t the mind to. You +know what Millie is. ’Tisn’t from my side that +she gets it either.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. And +’tain’t from me. I be all for easy going and +each one to his self like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Yes, there you +are, Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. But I reckon as the +little maid will hearken to what I says. Her was always a +wonderful good little maid to her dad. And her did always +know, that when her dad did set his foot down, well, there +’twas. ’Twas down.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Well, if you think +you can shew her that, Father, ’tis a fortunate job on all +sides.</p> +<p>[<i>They suddenly see</i> <span class="smcap">May</span> +<i>who has been quiet behind the door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. May, what are you +a-doing here I should like to know? Didn’t I send you +out into the garden along of your sister?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Yes, Auntie, but +I’ve comed back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Then you can be +off again, and shut the door this time, do your hear?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. That’s it, my +little maid. Run along—and look you, May, just you +tell Cousin Millie as we wants her in here straight away. +And who knows bye and bye whether there won’t be sommat in +yon great parcel for a good little wench.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O Uncle—I’d +like to see it now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Nay, nay—this +is not a suitable time—Aunt and me has business +what’s got to be settled like. Nay—’tis +later on as the packets is to be opened.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Get along off, you +tiresome child.—One word might do for some, but it takes +twenty to get you to move.—Run along now, do you hear +me?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>goes</i>.</p> +<p>Well, Father, I’ve done my share with Millie and she +don’t take a bit of notice of what I say. So now +it’s your turn.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, I count +’tis more man’s work, this here, so ’tis. +There be things which belongs to females and there be others +which do not. You get and leave it all to me. +I’ll bring it off.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. All right, Father, +just you try your way—I’ll have nothing more to do +with it. [<span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>comes +in</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Why, Father, +you’re back early from the Fair.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. That’s so, my +wench. See that package over yonder?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O, that I do, +Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Yon great one’s +for you, Mill.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O Father, +what’s inside it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. ’Tis a new, +smart bonnet, my wench.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. For me, Father?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah—who else +should it be for, Mill?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O Father, you are +good to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. And a silk cloak as +well.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. A silken cloak, and a +bonnet—O Father, ’tis too much for you to give me all +at once, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Young Andrew did help +me with the choice, and ’tis all to be worn on this day +month, my girl.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Why, Father, +what’s to happen then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. ’Tis for you to +go along to church in, Mill.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. To church, +Father?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, that +’tis—you in the cloak and bonnet, and upon the arm of +young Andrew, my wench.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O no, Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. But ’tis +“yes” as you have got to learn, my wench. And +quickly too. For ’tis this very evening as Andrew be +coming for his answer. And ’tis to be +“yes” this time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O no, Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. You’ve an hour +before you, my wench, in which to get another word to your +tongue.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I can’t learn +any word that isn’t “no,” Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Look at me, my +wench. My foot be down. I means what I +says—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. And I mean what I +say, too, Father. And I say, No!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Millie, I’ve +set down my foot.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. And so have I, +Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. And ’tis +“yes” as you must say to young Andrew when he do come +a-courting of you this night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. That I’ll never +say, Father. I don’t want cloaks nor bonnets, nor my +heart moved by gifts, or tears brought to my eyes by fair +words. I’ll not wed unless I can give my love along +with my hand. And ’tis not to Andrew I can give that, +as you know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. And to whom should a +maid give her heart if ’twasn’t to Andrew? A +finer lad never trod in a pair of shoes. I’ll be +blest if I do know what the wenches be a-coming to.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. There, Father, I +told you what to expect.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. But ’tis master +as I’ll be, hark you, Mother, hark you, Mill. And +’tis “Yes” as you have got to fit your tongue +out with my girl, afore ’tis dark. +[<i>Rising</i>.] I be a’going off to the yard, but, +Mother, her’ll know what to say to you, her will.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Dad, do you stop and +shew me the inside of my packet. Let us put Andrew aside +and be happy—do!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, I’ve got +other things as is waiting to be done nor breaking in a tricksome +filly to run atween the shafts. ’Tis fitter work for +females, and so ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And so I told you, +Father, from the start.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. And ’tis +“No” that I shall say.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h3>ACT I.—Scene 2.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>It is dusk on the same +evening</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>is standing by the table +folding up the silken cloak</i>. <span +class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>sits watching her</i>, <i>on her +knees lies a open parcel disclosing a woollen shawl</i>. +<i>In a far corner of the room</i> <span class="smcap">May</span> +<i>is seated on a stool making a daisy chain</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. ’Twas very good +of Uncle to bring me this nice shawl, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. You should have had a +cloak like mine, Annet, by rights.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. I’m not going to +get married, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. [<i>Sitting down with +a sudden movement of despondence and stretching her arms across +the table</i>.] O don’t you speak to me of that, +Annet. ’Tis more than I can bear to-night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. But, Millie, +he’s coming for your answer now. You musn’t let +him find you looking so.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. My face shall look as +my heart feels. And that is all sorrow, Annet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Can’t you bring +yourself round to fancy Andrew, Millie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. No, that I cannot, +Annet, I’ve tried a score of times, I have—but there +it is—I cannot.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Is it that +you’ve not forgotten Giles, then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I never shall forget +him, Annet. Why, ’tis a five year this day since +father sent him off to foreign parts, and never a moment of all +that time has my heart not remembered him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. I feared ’twas +so with you, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O I’ve laid +awake of nights and my tears have wetted the pillow all over so +that I’ve had to turn it t’other side up.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. And Giles has never +written to you, nor sent a sign nor nothing?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Your brother Giles +was never very grand with the pen, Annet. But, O, +he’s none the worse for that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Millie, I never cared +for to question you, but how was it when you and he did part, one +with t’other?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I did give him my +ring, Annet—secret like—when we were walking in the +wood.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. What, the one with the +white stones to it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Yes, +grandmother’s ring, that she left me. And I did say +to him—if ever I do turn false to you and am like to wed +another, Giles—look you at these white stones.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Seven of them, there +were, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. And the day that I am +like to wed another, Giles, I said to him, the stones shall +darken. But you’ll never see that day. [<i>She +begins to cry</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Don’t you give +way, Millie, for, look you, ’tis very likely that Giles has +forgotten you for all his fine words, and Andrew,—well, +Andrew he’s as grand a suitor as ever maid had. And +’tis Andrew you have got to wed, you know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Andrew, +Andrew—I’m sick at the very name of him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. See the fine house +you’ll live in. Think on the grand parlour that +you’ll sit in all the day with a servant to wait on you and +naught but Sunday clothes on your back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I’d sooner go +in rags with Giles at the side of me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Come, you must hearten +up. Andrew will soon be here. And Uncle says that you +have got to give him his answer to-night for good and all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O I cannot see +him—I’m wearied to death of Andrew, and that’s +the very truth it is.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. O Millie—I +wonder how ’twould feel to be you for half-an-hour and to +have such a fine suitor coming to me and asking for me to say +Yes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O I wish ’twas +you and not me that he was after, Annet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. ’Tisn’t +likely that anyone such as Master Andrew will ever come courting +a poor girl like me, Millie. But I’d dearly love to +know how ’twould feel.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>raises her head and +looks at her cousin for a few minutes in silence</i>, <i>then her +face brightens</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Then you shall, +Annet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Shall what, Mill?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Know how it +feels. Look here—’Tis sick to death I am with +courting, when ’tis from the wrong quarter, and if +I’m to wed Andrew come next month, I’ll not be +tormented with him before that time,—so ’tis you that +shall stop and talk with him this evening, Annet, and I’ll +slip out to the woods and gather flowers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. How wild and unlikely +you do talk, Mill.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. In the dusk +he’ll never know that ’tisn’t me. Being +cousins, we speak after the same fashion, and in the shape of us +there’s not much that’s amiss.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. But in the clothing of +us, Mill—why, ’tis a grand young lady that you +look—whilst I—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. [<i>Taking up the +silken cloak</i>.] Here—put this over your gown, +Annet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Standing +up</i>.] I don’t mind just trying it on, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. [<i>Fastening +it</i>.] There—and now the bonnet, with the veil +pulled over the face.</p> +<p>[<i>She ties the bonnet and arranges the veil on</i> <span +class="smcap">Annet</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. [<i>Standing back and +surveying her cousin</i>.] There, Annet, there May, who is +to tell which of us ’tis?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Coming +forward</i>.] O I should never know that +’twasn’t you, Cousin Mill.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. And I could well +mistake her for myself too, so listen, Annet. ’Tis +you that shall talk with Master Andrew when he comes +to-night. And ’tis you that shall give him my +answer. I’ll not burn my lips by speaking the word he +asks of me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. O Mill—I +cannot—no I cannot.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Don’t let him +have it very easily, Annet. Set him a ditch or two to jump +before he gets there. And let the thorns prick him a bit +before he gathers the flower. You know my way with him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And I know it too, +Millie—Why, your tongue, ’tis very near as sharp as +when Aunt do speak.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. O Millie, take off +these things—I cannot do it, that’s the truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Looking out through +the door</i>.] There’s Andrew a-coming over the mill +yard.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Here, sit down, +Annet, with the back of you to the light.</p> +<p>[<i>She pushes</i> <span class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>into a +chair beneath the window</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Can I get into the +cupboard and listen to it, Cousin Mill?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. If you promise to +bide quiet and to say naught of it afterwards.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O I promise, I +promise—I’ll just leave a crack of the door open for +to hear well.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>gets into the +cupboard</i>. <span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>takes +up</i> <span class="smcap">Annet’s</span> <i>new shawl and +puts it all over her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. No one will think +that ’tisn’t you, in the dusk.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. O Millie, what is it +that you’ve got me to do?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Never you mind, +Annet—you shall see what ’tis to have a grand suitor +and I shall get a little while of quiet out yonder, where I can +think on Giles.</p> +<p>[<i>She runs out of the door just as</i> <span +class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>comes up</i>. <span +class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>knocks and then enters the open +door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Where’s Annet +off to in such a hurry?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Very +faintly</i>.] I’m sure I don’t know. +[<span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>lays aside his hat and +comes up to the window</i>. <i>He stands before</i> <span +class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>looking down on her</i>. +<i>She becomes restless under his gaze</i>, <i>and at last signs +to him to sit down</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. [<i>Sitting down on a +chair a little way from her</i>.] The Master said that I +might come along to-night, Millie—Otherwise—[<span +class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>is still silent</i>.</p> +<p>Otherwise I shouldn’t have dared do so.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>sits nervously twisting +the ribbons of her cloak</i>.</p> +<p>The Master said, as how may be, your feeling for me, Millie, +might be changed like. [<span class="smcap">Annet</span> +<i>is still silent</i>.</p> +<p>And that if I was to ask you once more, very likely +’twould be something different as you might say.</p> +<p>[<i>A long silence</i>.</p> +<p>Was I wrong in coming, Millie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. +[<i>Faintly</i>.] ’Twould have been better had you +stayed away like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Then there +isn’t any change in your feelings towards me, Millie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. O, there’s a +sort of a change, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. +[<i>Slowly</i>.] O Mill, that’s good hearing. +What sort of a change is it then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. ’Tis very hard +to say, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Look you, Mill, +’tis more than a five year that I’ve been a-courting +of you faithful.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. +[<i>Sighing</i>.] Indeed it is, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. And I’ve never +got naught but blows for my pains.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Beginning to speak +in a gentle voice and ending sharply</i>.] O I’m so +sorry—No—I mean—’Tis your own fault, +Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. But I would sooner +take blows from you than sweet words from another, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. I could never find it +in my heart to—I mean, ’tis as well that you should +get used to blows, seeing we’re to be wed, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Then ’tis to +be! O Millie, this is brave news—Why, I do scarcely +know whether I be awake or dreaming.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Very +sadly</i>.] Very likely you’ll be glad enough to be +dreaming a month from now, poor Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. [<i>Drawing +nearer</i>.] I am brave, Millie, now that you speak to me +so kind and gentle, and I’ll ask you to name the day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Shrinking +back</i>.] O ’twill be a very long distance from now, +Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Millie, it seems to +be your pleasure to take up my heart and play with it same as a +cat does with the mouse.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Becoming gay and +hard in her manner</i>.] Your heart, Andrew? +’Twill go all the better afterwards if ’tis tossed +about a bit first.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Put an end to this +foolishness, Mill, and say when you’ll wed me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Warding him off +with her hand</i>.] You shall have my answer in a new song +Andrew, which I have been learning.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>sits down despondently +and prepares to listen</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Now hark you to this, +Andrew, and turn it well over in your mind. [<i>She begins +to sing</i>:</p> +<p class="poetry">Say can you plough me an acre of land<br /> +Sing Ivy leaf, Sweet William and Thyme.<br /> +Between the sea and the salt sea strand<br /> +And you shall be a true lover of mine?</p> +<p>[<i>A slight pause</i>. <span class="smcap">Annet</span> +<i>looks questioningly at</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span>, +<i>who turns away with a heavy sigh</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Singing</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Yes, if you plough it with one ram’s +horn<br /> +Sing Ivy Leaf, Sweet William and Thyme<br /> +And sow it all over with one peppercorn<br /> +And you shall be a true lover of mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. ’Tis all +foolishness.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Singing</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Say can you reap with a sickle of leather<br /> +Sing Ivy Leaf, Sweet William and Thyme<br /> +And tie it all up with a Tom-tit’s feather<br /> +And you shall be a true lover of mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. [<i>Rises up +impatiently</i>.] I can stand no more. You’ve +danced upon my heart till ’tis fairly brittle, and ready to +be broke by a feather.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Very +gently</i>.] O Andrew, I’ll mend your heart one +day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Millie, the sound of +those words has mended it already.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>In a harder +voice</i>.] But very likely there’ll be a crack left +to it always.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Farmer Daniel</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> <i>come into the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well my boy, well +Millie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. +[<i>Boldly</i>.] ’Tis for a month from now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Bless my soul. +Hear that, Mother? Hear that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I’m not +deaf, Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. [<i>Shaking</i> <span +class="smcap">Andrew’s</span> <i>hand</i>.] Ah my +boy, I knowed as you’d bring the little maid to the senses +of she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Millie has not +shown any backwardness in clothing herself as though for +church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. ’Tis with the +maids as ’tis with the fowls when they be come out from +moult. They be bound to pick about this way and that in +their new feathers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Well, ’tis +to be hoped the young people have fixed it up for good and all +this time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Come Mill, my wench, +you be wonderful quiet. Where’s your tongue?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I think +we’ve all had quite enough of Millie’s tongue, +Father. Let her give it a rest if she’ve a mind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. I warrant she be gone +as shy as a May bettel when ’tis daylight. But +us’ll take it as she have fixed it up in her own mind +like. Come, Mother, such a time as this, you won’t +take no objection to the drawing of a jug of cider.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And supper just +about to be served? I’m surprised at you, +Father. No, I can’t hear of cider being drawn so +needless like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well, +well,—have it your own way—but I always says, and my +father used to say it afore I, a fine deed do call for a fine +drink, and that’s how ’twas in my time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Millie, do you +call your cousins in to supper.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, and where be the +maids gone off to this time of night, Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Annet did pass me as +I came through the yard, Master</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span>, <i>quietly opens the cupboard +door and comes out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. So that’s +where you’ve been, you deceitful little wench.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Well, to think of +that, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And how long may +you have bid there, I should like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Come, come, my little +maid, ’tis early days for you to be getting a lesson in +courtship.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O there wasn’t any +courtship, Uncle, and I didn’t hear nothing at all to speak +of.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. There, run along +quick and find your sister. Supper’s late already, +and that it is.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. I’ll go with +her.</p> +<p>[<i>She starts forward and hurriedly moves towards the +door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Stop a moment, +Millie. What are you thinking of to go trailing out in the +dew with that beautiful cloak and bonnet. Take and lay them +in the box at once, do you hear?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. That’s it, +Mill. ’Twouldn’t do for to mess them up afore +the day. ’Twas a fair price as I gived for they, and +that I can tell you, my girl.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>stops +irresolutely</i>. <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>seizes +her hand</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Come off, come off, +“Cousin Millie”; ’tis not damp outside, and O +I’m afeared to cross the rickyard by myself.</p> +<p>[<i>She pulls</i> <span class="smcap">Annet</span> +<i>violently by the hand and draws her out of the door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Off with the cloak +this minute, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Calling +back</i>.] She’s a-taking of it off, Aunt, she +is.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I don’t know +what’s come to the maid. She don’t act like +herself to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, that be asking +too much of a maid, to act like herself, and the wedding day +close ahead of she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I’d be +content with a suitable behaviour, Father. I’m not +hard to please.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, you take and let +her go quiet, same as I lets th’ old mare when her first +comes up from grass.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. ’Tis all +very well for you to talk, Father but ’tis I who have got +to do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Come Mother, come +Andrew, I be sharp set. And ’tis the feel of victuals +and no words as I wants in my mouth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Well, Father, +I’m not detaining you. There’s the door, and +the food has been cooling on the table this great while.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Come you, Andrew, +come you, Mother. Us’ll make a bit of a marriage +feast this night.</p> +<p>[<i>He leads the way and the others follow him out</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>A woodland path</i>. <span class="smcap">Giles</span> +<i>comes forward with his two servants</i>, <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">John</span>, <i>who are carrying heavy +packets</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. ’Tis powerful +warm to-day. We will take a bit of rest before we go +further.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Setting down his +packet</i>.] That’s it, master. ’Tis a +rare weight as I’ve been carrying across my back since +dawn.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Also setting down +his burden</i>.] Ah, I be pleased for to lay aside +yon. ’Tis wonderful heavy work, this journeying to +and fro with gold and silver.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Our travelling is very +nigh finished. There lies the road which goes to Camel +Farm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Oh, I count as that +must be a rare sort of a place, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Seeing as us +haven’t stopped scarce an hour since us landed off the +sea.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. But have come running +all the while same as the fox may run in th’ early morning +towards the poultry yard.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Nor broke bread, nor +scarce got a drop of drink to wet th’ insides of we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. ’Tis very little +further that you have got to journey, my good lads. We are +nigh to the end of our wayfaring.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. And what sort of a +place be we a-coming to, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. ’Tis the place +out of all the world to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I count ’tis +sommat rare and fine in that case, seeing as we be come from +brave foreign parts, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. ’Tis rarer, and +finer than all the foreign lands that lie beneath the sun, my +lads.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. That’s good +hearing, master. And is the victuals like to be as fine as +the place?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. O, you’ll fare +well enough yonder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I was never one for +foreign victuals, nor for the drink that was over there +neither.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Well, the both of you +shall rest this night beneath the grandest roof that ever +sheltered a man’s head. And you shall sit at a table +spread as you’ve not seen this many a year.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. That’ll be +sommat to think on, master, when us gets upon our legs again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I be thinking of it +ahead as I lies here, and that’s the truth.</p> +<p>[<i>The two servants stretch themselves comfortably beneath +the trees</i>. <span class="smcap"><i>Giles</i></span><i> +walks restlessly backwards and forwards as though impatient at +any delay</i>. <i>From time to time he glances at a ring +which he wears</i>, <i>sighing heavily as he does so</i>.</p> +<p>[<i>An old man comes up</i>, <i>leaning on his staff</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Good-morning to you, +my fine gentlemen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Good-morning, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. ’Tis a +wonderful warm sun to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. You’re right +there, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. I warrant as you be +journeying towards the same place where I be going, my lord.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. And where is that, old +master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Towards Camel +Farm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. You’re +right. ’Tis there and nowhere else that we are +going.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Ah, us’ll have +to go smartish if us is to be there in time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. In time for what, my +good man?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. In time for to see +the marrying, my lord.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. The marrying? +What’s that you’re telling me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. ’Tis at noon +this day that she’s to be wed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Who are you speaking +of, old man?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. And where is your +lordship journeying this day if ’tis not to the +marrying?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Who’s getting +wed up yonder, tell me quickly?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. ’Tis th’ +old farmer’s daughter what’s to wed come +noon-tide.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. +[<i>Starting</i>.] Millie! O that is heavy +news. [<i>Looking at his hand</i>.] Then ’tis +as I feared, for since daybreak yesterday the brightness has all +gone from out of the seven stones. That’s how +’twould be, she told me once.</p> +<p>[<i>He turns away from the others in deep distress of +mind</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Us’ll see no +Camel Farm this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And th’ inside of +I be crying out for victuals.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Then you be not of +these parts, masters?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. No, us be comed from +right over the seas, along of master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, ’tis a fine +gentleman, master. But powerful misfortunate in things of +the heart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Ah, he’d best +have stopped where he was. Camel Farm baint no place for +the like of he to go courting at.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, master be used to +them great palaces, all over gold and marble with windows as you +might drive a waggon through, and that you might.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. All painted +glass. And each chair with golden legs to him, and a sight +of silver vessels on the table as never you did dream of after a +night’s drinking, old man. [<span +class="smcap">Giles</span> <i>comes slowly towards them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. And who is she to wed, +old man?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Be you a-speaking of +the young mistress up at Camel Farm, my lord?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Yes. With whom +does she go to church to-day?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. ’Tis along of +Master Andrew that her do go. What lives up Cranham +way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Ah, th’ old +farmer was always wonderful set on him. [<i>A +pause</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. I be a poor old +wretch what journeys upon the roads, master, and maybe I picks a +crust here and gets a drink of water there, and the shelter of +the pig-stye wall to rest the bones of me at night time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. What matters it if you +be old and poor, master, so that the heart of you be whole and +unbroken?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Us poor old wretches +don’t carry no hearts to th’ insides of we. The +pains of us do come from the having of no victuals and from the +winter’s cold when snow do lie on the ground and the wind +do moan over the fields, and when the fox do bark.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. What is the pang of +hunger and the cold bite of winter set against the cruel torment +of a disappointed love?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. I baint one as can +judge of that, my lord, seeing that I be got a poor old badger of +a man, and the days when I was young and did carry a heart what +could beat with love, be ahind of I, and the feel of them clean +forgot.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Then what do you up +yonder at the marrying this morning?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Oh, I do take me to +those places where there be burying or marriage, for the hearts +of folk at these seasons be warmed and kinder, like. And +’tis bread and meat as I gets then. Food be thrown +out to the poor old dog what waits patient at the door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. [<i>Looks intently at +him for a moment</i>.] See here, old master. I would +fain strike a bargain with you. And ’tis with a +handful of golden pieces that I will pay your service.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Anything to oblige +you, my young lord.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span>.] Take out a handful from the +bag of gold. And you, John, give him some of the +silver.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">John</span> <i>untie their bags and take out gold +and silver</i>. <i>They twist it up in a handkerchief which +they give to the old man</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. May all the +blessings of heaven rest on you, my lord, for ’tis plain to +see that you be one of the greatest and finest gentlemen ever +born to the land.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. My good friend, +you’re wrong there, I was a poor country lad, but I had the +greatest treasure that a man could hold on this earth. +’Twas the love of my cousin Millie. And being poor, I +was put from out the home, and sent to seek my fortune in parts +beyond the sea.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Now, who’d +have thought ’twas so, for the looks of you be gentle born +all over.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. “Come back with +a bushel of gold in one hand and one of silver in +t’other” the old farmer said to me, “and then +maybe I’ll let you wed my daughter.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. And here you be +comed back, and there lie the gold and the silver bags.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. And yonder is Millie +given in marriage to another.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Taint done +yet, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tisn’t too +late, by a long way, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Old Man</span>.] And so I would crave +something of you, old friend. Lend me your smock, and your +big hat and your staff. In that disguise I will go to the +farm and look upon my poor false love once more. If I find +that her heart is already given to another, I shall not make +myself known to her. But if she still holds to her love for +me, then—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Go in the fine +clothes what you have upon you, master. And even should the +maid’s heart, be given to another, the sight of so grand a +cloth and such laces will soon turn it the right way again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, that’s so, it +is. You go as you be clothed now, master. I know what +maids be, and ’tis finery and good coats which do work more +on the hearts of they nor anything else in the wide world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. No, no, my lads. +I will return as I did go from yonder. Poor, and in mean +clothing. Nor shall a glint of all my wealth speak one word +for me. But if so be as her heart is true in spite of +everything, my sorrowful garments will not hide my love away from +her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. [<i>Taking off his +hat</i>.] Here you are master.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Giles</span> <i>hands his own hat to</i> +<span class="smcap">George</span>. <i>He then takes off his +coat and gives it to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>. +<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Old Man</span> <i>takes off his +smock</i>, <span class="smcap"><i>Giles</i></span><i> puts it +on</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Pull the hat well +down about the face of you, master, so as the smooth skin of you +be hid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. [<i>Turning round in +his disguise</i>.] How’s that, my friends?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. You be a sight too +straight in the back, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. +[<i>Stooping</i>.] I’ll soon better that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Be you a-going in them +fine buckled shoes, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. I had forgot the +shoes. When I get near to the house ’tis barefoot +that I will go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Then let us be off, +master, for the’ time be running short.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, that +’tis. I count it be close on noon-day now by the look +of the sun.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. And heaven be with +you, my young gentleman.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. My good friends, you +shall go with me a little further. And when we have come +close upon the farm, you shall stop in the shelter of a wood that +I know of and await the signal I shall give you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. And what’ll +that be, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. I shall blow three +times, and loudly from my whistle, here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And be we to come up to +the farm when we hears you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. As quickly as you can +run. ’Twill be the sign that I need all of you with +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">John</span>. That’s it, master. +Us do understand what ’tis as we have got to do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Mar</span>. Ah, ’tis best +to be finished with hearts that beat to the tune of a +maid’s tongue, and to creep quiet along the roads with +naught but them pains as hunger and thirst do bring to th’ +inside. So ’tis.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h3>ACT III.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>The parlour at Camel Farm</i>. <span +class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, <i>in her best dress</i>, <i>is +moving about the room putting chairs in their places and +arranging ornaments on the dresser</i>, <i>etc.</i> <span +class="smcap">May</span> <i>stands at the door with a large bunch +of flowers in her hands</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And what do you +want to run about in the garden for when I’ve just smoothed +your hair and got you all ready to go to church?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I’ve only been +helping Annet gather some flowers to put upon the table.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. You should know +better then. Didn’t I tell you to sit still in that +chair with your hands folded nicely till we were ready to +start.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Why, I couldn’t be +sitting there all the while, now could I, Aunt?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. This’ll be +the last time as I tie your ribbon, mind.</p> +<p>[<i>She smoothes</i> <span class="smcap">May’s</span> +<i>hair and ties it up for her</i>. <span +class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>comes into the room with more +flowers</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. What’s your +cousin doing now, Annet?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. The door of her room +is still locked, Aunt. And what she says is that she do +want to bide alone there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. In all my days I +never did hear tell of such a thing, I don’t know +what’s coming to the world, I don’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I count that Millie do +like to be all to herself whilst she is a-dressing up grand in +her white gown, and the silken cloak and bonnet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Millie’s not +a-dressing of herself up. I heard her crying pitiful as I +was gathering flowers in the garden.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Crying? +She’ll have something to cry about if she doesn’t +look out, when her father comes in, and hears how she’s +a-going on.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I wonder why Cousin +Millie’s taking on like this. I shouldn’t, if +’twas me getting married.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Look you, May, you +get and run up, and knock at the door and tell her that +’twill soon be time for us to set off to church and that +she have got to make haste in her dressing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I’ll run, Aunt, +only ’tis very likely as she’ll not listen to +anything that I say. [<span class="smcap">May</span> +<i>goes out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Now Annet, no +idling here, if you please. Set the nosegay in water, and +when you’ve given a look round to see that everything is in +its place, upstairs with you, and on with your bonnet, do you +hear? Uncle won’t wish to be kept waiting for you, +remember.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. I’m all ready +dressed, except for my bonnet, Aunt. ’Tis Millie +that’s like to keep Uncle waiting this morning. +[<i>She goes out</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Daniel</span> <i>comes in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well, +Mother—well, girls—but, bless my soul, where’s +Millie got to?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Millie has not +seen fit to shew herself this morning, Father. She’s +biding up in her room with the door locked, and nothing that +I’ve been able to say has been attended to, so perhaps +you’ll kindly have your try.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Bless my +soul—where’s May? Where’s Annet? +Send one of the little maids up to her, and tell her ’tis +very nigh time for us to be off.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I’m fairly +tired of sending up to her, Father. You’d best go +yourself.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>comes into the +room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Please Aunt, the door, +’tis still locked, and Millie is crying ever so sadly +within, and she won’t open to me, nor speak, nor +nothing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. There, +Father,—perhaps you’ll believe what I tell you +another time. Millie has got that hardened and wayward, +there’s no managing of her, there’s not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, +’twon’t be very long as us’ll have the managing +of she. ’Twill be young Andrew as’ll take she +in hand after this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. ’Tis all +very well to talk of young Andrew, but who’s a-going to get +her to church with him I’d like to know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Why, ’tis me +as’ll do it, to be sure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Very well, Father, +and we shall all be much obliged to you.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Daniel</span> <i>goes to the door and +shouts up the stairs</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well, Millie, my +wench. Come you down here. ’Tis time we did set +out. Do you hear me, Mill. ’Tis time we was +off.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> <i>waits +listening</i>. <i>No answer comes</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Don’t you hear +what I be saying, Mill? Come you down at once. +[<i>There is no answer</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Millie, there be +Andrew a-waiting for to take you to church. Come you down +this minute.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. You’d best +take sommat and go and break open the door, Father. +’Tis the sensiblest thing as you can do, only you’d +never think of anything like that by yourself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. I likes doing things +my own way, Mother. Women-folk, they be so buzzing. +’Tis like a lot of insects around of anyone on a +summer’s day. A-saying this way and that—whilst +a man do go at anything quiet and calm-like. [<span +class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>comes in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. Please, Uncle, Millie +says that she isn’t coming down for no one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. [<i>Roaring in +fury</i>.] What! What’s that, my +wench—isn’t a-coming down for no one? Hear +that, Mother, hear that? I’ll have sommat to say to +that, I will. [<i>Going to the door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. [<i>Roaring up the +stairs</i>.] Hark you, Mill, down you comes this moment +else I’ll smash the door right in, and that I will.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Daniel</span> <i>comes back into the +room</i>, <i>storming violently</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, ’tis a +badly bred up wench is Millie, and her’d have growed up +very different if I’d a-had the bringing up of she. +But spoiled she is and spoiled her’ve always been, and what +could anyone look for from a filly what’s been broke in by +women folk!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. There, there, +Father—there’s no need to bluster in this +fashion. Take up the poker and go and break into the door +quiet and decent, like anyone else would do. And +girls—off for your bonnets this moment I tell you.</p> +<p>[<i>She takes up a poker and hands it to</i> <span +class="smcap">Daniel</span>, <i>who mops his face and goes slowly +out and upstairs</i>. <span class="smcap">Annet</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>leave the +room</i>. <i>The farmer is heard banging at the door of +Millie’s bedroom</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> <i>moves about the room +setting it in order</i>. <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> +<i>comes in at the door</i>. <i>He carries a bunch of +flowers</i>, <i>which he lays on the table</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Good-morning to you, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Good-morning, +Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. What’s going on +upstairs?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. ’Tis Father +at a little bit of carpentering.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. I’m come too +soon, I reckon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. We know what young +men be upon their wedding morn! I warrant as the clock +can’t run too fast for them at such a time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. You’re right +there, mistress. But the clock have moved powerful slow all +these last few weeks—for look you here, ’tis a month +this day since I last set eyes on Mill or had a word from her +lips—so ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. You’ll have +enough words presently. Hark, she’s coming down with +Father now.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>turns eagerly towards +the door</i>. <i>The farmer enters with</i> <span +class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>clinging to his arm</i>, <i>she +wears her ordinary dress</i>. <i>Her hair is ruffled and in +disorder</i>, <i>and she has been crying</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Andrew, my lad, good +morning to you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Good morning, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. You mustn’t +mind a bit of an April shower, my boy. ’Tis the way +with all maids on their wedding morn. Isn’t that so, +Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I wouldn’t +make such a show of myself if I was you, Mill. Go upstairs +this minute and wash your face and smooth your hair and put +yourself ready for church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Nay, she be but just +come from upstairs, Mother. Let her bide quiet a while with +young Andrew here; whilst do you come along with me and get me +out my Sunday coat. ’Tis time I was dressed for +church too, I’m thinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I don’t know +what’s come to the house this morning, and that’s the +truth. Andrew, I’ll not have you keep Millie beyond a +five minutes. ’Tis enough of one another as +you’ll get later on, like. Father, go you off +upstairs for your coat. ’Tis hard work for me, +getting you all to act respectable, that ’tis.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Daniel</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> <i>leave the room</i>. <span +class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>moves near</i> <span +class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>and holds out both his +hands</i>. <i>She draws herself haughtily away</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. +Millie—’tis our wedding day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. And what if it is, +Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Millie, it cuts me to +the heart to see your face all wet with tears.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Did you think to see +it otherwise, Andrew?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. No smile upon your +lips, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Have I anything to +smile about, Andrew?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. No love coming from +your eyes, Mill.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. That you have never +seen, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. And all changed in +the voice of you too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. What do you mean by +that, Andrew?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Listen, +Millie—’tis a month since I last spoke with +you. Do you recollect? ’Twas the evening of the +great Fair.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span> And what if it was?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Millie, you were +kinder to me that night than ever you had been before. I +seemed to see such a gentle look in your eyes then. And +when you spoke, ’twas as though—as +though—well—’twas one of they quists a-cooing +up in the trees as I was put in mind of.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Well, there’s +nothing more to be said about that now, Andrew. That +night’s over and done with.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. I’ve carried +the thought of it in my heart all this time, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I never asked you to, +Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. I’ve brought +you a nosegay of flowers, Mill. They be rare blossoms with +grand names what I can’t recollect to all of them.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>takes the nosegay</i>, +<i>looks at it for an instant</i>, <i>and then lets it +fall</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I have no liking for +flowers this day, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. O Millie, and is it +so as you and me are going to our marriage?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Yes, Andrew. +’Tis so. I never said it could be different. I +have no heart to give you. My love was given long ago to +another. And that other has forgotten me by now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. O Millie, you shall +forget him too when once you are wed to me, I promise you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. ’Tis beyond the +power of you or any man to make me do that, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Millie, what’s +the good of we two going on to church one with t’other?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. There’s no good +at all, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Millie, I could have +sworn that you had begun to care sommat more than ordinary for me +that last time we were together.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Then you could have +sworn wrong. I care nothing for you, Andrew, no, +nothing. But I gave my word I’d go to church with you +and be wed. And—I’ll not break my word, +I’ll not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. And is this all that +you can say to me to-day, Mill?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Yes, Andrew, +’tis all. And now, ’tis very late, and I have +got to dress myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. [<i>Calling loudly +from above</i>.] Millie, what are you stopping for? +Come you up here and get your gown on, do.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>looks haughtily at</i> +<span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>as she passes him</i>. +<i>She goes slowly out of the room</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>picks up the flowers and +stands holding them</i>, <i>looking disconsolately down upon +them</i>. <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>comes in</i>, +<i>furtively</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. All alone, Andrew? +Has Millie gone to put her fine gown on?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Yes, Millie’s +gone to dress herself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O that’s a +beautiful nosegay, Andrew. Was it brought for Mill?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Yes, May, but she +won’t have it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Millie don’t like +you very much, Andrew, do she?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Millie’s got +quite changed towards me since last time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And when was that, +Andrew?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Why, last time was +the evening of the Fair, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. When I was hid in the +cupboard yonder, Andrew?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. So you were, +May. Well, can’t you recollect how ’twas that +she spoke to me then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O yes, Andrew, and that +I can. ’Twas a quist a-cooing in the tree one +time—and then—she did recollect herself and did +sharpen up her tongue and ’twas another sort of bird what +could drive its beak into the flesh of anyone—so +’twas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. O May—you say +she did recollect herself—what do you mean by those +words?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. You see, she did give +her word that she would speak sharp and rough to you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. What are you talking +about, May? Do you mean that the tongue of her was not +speaking as the heart of her did feel?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I guess ’twas +sommat like that, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. O May, you have +gladdened me powerful by these words.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. But, O you must not tell +of me, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. I will never do so, +May—only I shall know better how to be patient, and to keep +the spirit of me up next time that she do strike out against +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I’m not a-talking +of Mill, Andrew.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Who are you talking +of then, I’d like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. ’Twas Annet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. What was?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Annet who was dressed up +in the cloak and bonnet of Millie that night and who did speak +with you so gentle and nice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Annet!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. [<i>Is heard +calling</i>.] There, father, come along down and give your +face a wash at the pump.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Let’s go quick +together into the garden, Andrew, and I’ll tell you all +about it and how ’twas that Annet acted so.</p> +<p>[<i>She seizes</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew’s</span> +<i>hand and pulls him out of the room with her</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h3>ACT III.—Scene 2.</h3> +<p><i>A few minutes later</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> <i>stands tying her +bonnet strings before a small mirror on the wall</i>. <span +class="smcap">Daniel</span> <i>is mopping his face with a +big</i>, <i>bright handkerchief</i>. <span +class="smcap">Annet</span>, <i>dressed for church</i>, <i>is by +the table</i>. <i>She sadly takes up the nosegay of flowers +which</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>brought for</i> +<span class="smcap">Millie</span>, <i>and moves her hand +caressingly over it</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. If you think that +your neckerchief is put on right ’tis time you should know +different, Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. What’s wrong +with it then, I’d like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. ’Tis +altogether wrong. ’Tis like the two ears of a heifer +sticking out more than anything else that I can think on.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Have it your own way, +Mother—and fix it as you like.</p> +<p>[<i>He stands before her and she rearranges it</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. These flowers were +lying on the ground.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Thrown there in a +fine fit of temper, I warrant.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Her was as quiet as a +new born lamb once the door was broke open and she did see as my +word, well, ’twas my word.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. We all hear a +great deal about your word, Father, but ’twould be better +for there to be more do and less say about you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. [<i>Going over to +Annet and looking at her intently</i>.] Why, my +wench—what be you a-dropping tears for this day?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Drying her +eyes</i>.] ’Twas—’twas the scent out of +one of the flowers as got to my eyes, Uncle.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well, that’s a +likely tale it is. Hear that, Mother? ’Tis with +her eyes that this little wench do snuff at a flower. +That’s good, bain’t it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I haven’t +patience with the wenches now-a-days. Lay down that nosegay +at once, Annet, and call your cousin from her room. I +warrant she has finished tricking of herself up by now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, I warrant as +her’ll need a smartish bit of time for to take the creases +out of the face of she.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">May</span> <i>come in</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well, Andrew, my lad, +’tis about time as we was on the way to church I +reckon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. I count as ’tis +full early yet, master.</p> +<p>[<i>He takes up the nosegay from the table and crosses the +room to the window where</i> <span class="smcap">Annet</span> +<i>is standing</i>, <i>and trying to control her tears</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Annet, Millie will +have none of my blossoms. I should like it well if you +would carry them in your hand to church this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. [<i>Looking +wonderingly at him</i>.] Me, Andrew?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Yes, you, +Annet. For, look you, they become you well. They have +sommat of the sweetness of you in them. And the touch of +them is soft and gentle. And—I would like you to keep +them in your hands this day, Annet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. O Andrew, I never was +given anything like this before.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. +[<i>Slowly</i>.] I should like to give you a great deal +more, Annet—only I cannot. And ’tis got too +late.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Too late—I +should think it was. What’s come to the maid! +In my time girls didn’t use to spend a quarter of the while +afore the glass as they do now. Suppose you was to holler +for her again, Father.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Anything to please +you, Mother—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I hear her coming, +Uncle. I hear the noise of the silk.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>comes slowly into the +room in her wedding clothes</i>. <i>She holds herself very +upright and looks from one to another quietly and coldly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Andrew’s gived +your nosegay to Annet, Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. ’Twould have +been a pity to have wasted the fresh blossoms.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. But they were gathered +for you, Mill.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Annet seems to like +them better than I did.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well, my +wench—you be tricked out as though you was off to the horse +show. Mother, there bain’t no one as can beat our +wench in looks anywhere this side of the country.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. She’s right +enough in the clothing of her, but ’twould be better if her +looks did match the garments more. Come, Millie, +can’t you appear pleasanter like on your wedding day?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I’m very +thirsty, Mother. Could I have a drink of water before we +set out?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And what next, I +should like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. ’Tis only a +drink of water that I’m asking for.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well, that’s +reasonable, Mother, bain’t it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Run along and get +some for your cousin, May. [<span class="smcap">May</span> +<i>runs out of the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Come you here, +Andrew, did you ever see a wench to beat ourn in looks, I +say?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. [<i>Who has remained +near</i> <span class="smcap">Annet</span> <i>without +moving</i>.] ’Tis very fine that Millie’s +looking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Fine, I should think +’twas. You was a fine looking wench, Mother, the day +I took you to church, but ’tis my belief that Millie have +beat you in the appearance of her same as the roan heifer did +beat th’ old cow when the both was took along to +market. Ah, and did fetch very near the double of what I +gived for the dam.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>returns carrying a glass +bowl full of water</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Here’s a drink of +cold water, Millie. I took it from the spring.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>takes the +bowl</i>. <i>At the same moment a loud knocking is heard at +the outside door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Who’s that, +I should like to know?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>sets down the bowl on +the table</i>. <i>She listens with a sudden intent</i>, +<i>anxiety on her face as the knock is repeated</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. I’ll learn +anyone to come meddling with me on a day when ’tis marrying +going on.</p> +<p>[<i>The knocking is again heard</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">May</span>, <i>who would have opened the +door</i>.] No, no. ’Tis I who will open the +door.</p> +<p>[<i>She raises the latch and flings the door wide +open</i>. <span class="smcap">Giles</span> <i>disguised as +a poor and bent old man</i>, <i>comes painfully into the +room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. We don’t +want no beggars nor roadsters here to-day, if you please.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, and that us +don’t. Us be a wedding party here, and ’tis for +you to get moving on, old man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. He is poor and +old. And he has wandered far, in the heat of the +morning. Look at his sad clothing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Annet</span>.] I never heard her put so much +gentleness to her words afore.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. And ’tis my +wedding day. He shall not go uncomforted from here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I never knowed you +so careful of a poor wretch afore, Millie. ’Tis quite +a new set out, this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I am in mind of +another, who may be wandering, and hungered, and in poor clothing +this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Give him something +quick, Aunt, and let him get off so that we can start for the +wedding.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. [<i>Coming close +to</i> <span class="smcap">Giles</span>.] What is it I can +do for you, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. ’Tis only a +drink of water that I ask, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. [<i>Taking up the +glass bowl</i>.] Only a drink of water, master? Then +take, and be comforted.</p> +<p>[<i>She holds the bowl before him for him to drink</i>. +<i>As he takes it</i>, <i>he drops a ring into the +water</i>. <i>He then drinks and hands the bowl back to</i> +<span class="smcap">Millie</span>. <i>For a moment she +gazes speechless at the bottom of the bowl</i>. <i>Then she +lifts the ring from it and would drop the bowl but for</i> <span +class="smcap">May</span>, <i>who takes it from her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Master, from whom did +you get this?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Look well at the +stones of it, mistress, for they are clouded and dim.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. And not more clouded +than the heart which is in me, master. O do you bring me +news?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Is it not all too late +for news, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Not if it be the news +for which my heart craves, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. And what would that +be, mistress?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Millie</span> <i>goes to</i> <span +class="smcap">Giles</span>, <i>and with both hands slowly pushes +back his big hat and gazes at him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O Giles, my true +love. You are come just in time. Another hour and I +should have been wed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. And so you knew me, +Mill?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O Giles, no change of +any sort could hide you from the eyes of my love.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Your love, +Millie. And is that still mine?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. It always has been +yours, Giles. O I will go with you so gladly in poor +clothing and in hunger all over the face of the earth.</p> +<p>[<i>She goes to him and clasps his arm</i>; <i>and</i>, +<i>standing by his side</i>, <i>faces all those in the +room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. +[<i>Angrily</i>.] Please to come to your right senses, +Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Come, Andrew, set +your foot down as I’ve set mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Nay, master. +There’s naught left for me to say. The heart does +shew us better nor all words which way we have to travel.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And are you going to +marry a beggar man instead of Andrew, who looks so brave and fine +in his wedding clothes, Millie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I am going to marry +him I have always loved, May—and—O Andrew, I never +bore you malice, though I did say cruel and hard words to you +sometimes.—But you’ll not remember me +always—you will find gladness too, some day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. I count as I shall, +Millie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Come, come, +I’ll have none of this—my daughter wed to a beggar +off the highway! Mother, ’tis time you had a word +here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. No, Father, +I’ll leave you to manage this affair. ’Tis you +who have spoiled Mill and brought her up so wayward and unruly, +and ’tis to you I look for to get us out of this unpleasant +position.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Dear +Millie—don’t wed my brother Giles. Why, look at +his ragged smock and his bare feet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. I shall be proud to +go bare too, so long as I am by his side, May.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Giles</span> <i>goes to the door and +blows his whistle three times and loudly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. What’s that for, +Giles?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. You shall soon see, +little May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. I’ll be hanged +if I’ll stand any more of this caddling nonsense. +Here, Mill—the trap’s come to the door. Into it +with you, I say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. I beg you to wait a +moment, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. +Wait!—’Tis a sight too long as we have waited this +day. If all had been as I’d planned, we should have +been to church by now. But womenfolk, there be no depending +on they. No, and that there bain’t.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span>, <span +class="smcap">John</span> <i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Old +Man</span> <i>come up</i>. <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">John</span> <i>carry their packets and the</i> +<span class="smcap">Old Man</span> <i>has</i> <span +class="smcap">Giles</span>’ <i>coat and hat over his +arm</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And who are these +persons, Giles?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">John</span> <i>set down their burdens on the floor +and begin to mop their faces</i>. <i>The</i> <span +class="smcap">Old Man</span> <i>stretches out his fine coat and +hat and buckled shoes to</i> <span +class="smcap">Giles</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Here they be, my +lord, and I warrant as you’ll feel more homely like in +they, nor what you’ve got upon you now. [<span +class="smcap">Giles</span> <i>takes the things from him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Thank you, old +master. [<i>He turns to</i> <span +class="smcap">Millie</span>.] Let me go into the other +room, Millie. I will not keep you waiting longer than a few +moments.</p> +<p>[<i>He goes out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span>.] And who may you be, I should +like to know? You appear to be making very free with my +parlour.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. We be the servants +what wait upon Master Giles, old Missis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Old Missis, +indeed. Father, you shall speak to these persons.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Well, my men. I +scarce do know whether I be a-standing on my head or upon my +heels, and that’s the truth ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Ah, and that I can +well understand, master, for I’m a married man myself, and +my woman has a tongue to her head very similar to that of +th’ old missis yonder—so I know what ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Put them both out +of the door, Father, do you hear me? ’Tis to the +cider as they’ve been getting. That’s +clear.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. My good friends, what +is it that you carry in those bundles there?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Tis gold in +mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And silver here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Depend upon it +’tis two wicked thieves we have got among us, flying from +justice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. No, no—did not +you hear them say, their master is Giles.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. And a better master +never trod the earth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And a finer or a richer +gentleman I never want to see.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Do you hear that, +Father? O you shocking liars—’tis stolen goods +that you’ve been and brought to our innocent house this +day. But, Father, do you up and fetch in the constable, do +you hear?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O I’ll run. +I shall love to see them going off to gaol.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Be quiet, May. +Can’t you all see how ’tis. Giles has done the +cruel hard task set him by Father—and is back again with +the bushel of silver and that of gold to claim my hand. +[<span class="smcap">Giles</span> <i>enters</i>.] But +Giles—I’d have given it to you had you come to me +poor and forlorn and ragged, for my love has never wandered from +you in all this long time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. No, Giles—and +that it has not. Millie has never given me one kind word +nor one gentle look all the years that I’ve been courting +of her, and that’s the truth. And you can call +witness to it if you care.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Giles</span>. Uncle, Aunt, +I’ve done the task you set me years ago—and now I +claim my reward. I went from this house a poor wretch, with +nothing but the hopeless love in my heart to feed and sustain +me. I have returned with all that the world can give me of +riches and prosperity. Will you now let me be the husband +of your daughter?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. O say ye, Uncle, for +look how fine and grand he is in his coat—and the bags are +stuffed full to the brim and ’tis with gold and silver.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. +Well—’tis a respectabler end than I thought as +you’d come to, Giles. And different nor what you +deserved.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Come, come, +Mother.—The fewer words to this, the better. Giles, +my boy—get you into the trap and take her along to the +church and drive smart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Annet—will you +come there with me too?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. O Andrew—what +are you saying?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Come, come. +Where’s the wind blowing from now? Here, Mother, do +you listen to this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I shall be deaf +before I’ve done, but it appears to me that Annet’s +not lost any time in making the most of her chances.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, and she be none +the worse for that. ’Tis what we all likes to +do. Where’d I be in the market if I did let my +chances blow by me? Hear that, Andrew?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. I’m a rare +lucky man this day, farmer.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. Ah, and ’tis a +rare good little wench, Annet—though she bain’t so +showy as our’n. A rare good little maid. And +now ’tis time we was all off to church, seeing as this is +to be a case of double harness like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. O Annet, you can’t +be wed in that plain gown.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annet</span>. May, I’m so +happy that I feel as though I were clothed all over with +jewels.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Andrew</span>. Give me your hand, +Annet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. +[<i>Mockingly</i>.] Millie—don’t you want to +give a drink of water to yon poor old man?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. That I will, +May? Here—fetch me something that’s better than +water for him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I’ll have no +cider drinking out of meal times here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Millie</span>. Then ’twill I +have to be when we come back from church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. Bless you, my pretty +lady, but I be used to waiting. I’ll just sit me down +outside in the sun till you be man and wife.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And that’ll +not be till this day next year if this sort of thing goes on any +longer.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Daniel</span>. That’s right, +Mother. You take and lead the way. ’Tis the +womenfolk as do keep we back from everything. But I knows +how to settle with they—[<i>roaring</i>]—come Mill, +come Giles, Andrew, Annet, May. Come Mother, out of +th’ house with all of you and to church, I say.</p> +<p>[<i>He gets behind them all and drives them before him and out +of the room</i>. <i>When they have gone</i>, <i>the</i> +<span class="smcap">Old Man</span> <i>sinks on a bench in the +door-way</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Old Man</span>. I’m done with +all the foolishness of life and I can sit me down and sleep till +it be time to eat.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h2>BUSHES AND BRIARS</h2> +<h3>CHARACTERS</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Spring</span>, <i>a farmer</i>, +<i>aged</i> 35.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>, <i>his wife</i>, <i>the same +age</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>, <i>his sister</i>, +<i>aged</i> 21.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie and Robin</span>, <i>the children +of Thomas and Emily</i>, <i>aged</i> 10 <i>and</i> 8.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>maid to Clara</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles Hooper</span>, <i>a rich +draper</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke Jenner</span>, <i>a farmer</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>, <i>aged</i> 28.</p> +<h3>ACT I.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>A wood</i>. <i>It is a +morning in June</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>, <i>carrying an empty +basket</i>, <i>comes slowly through the wood</i>. <i>On +reaching a fallen tree he sits down on it</i>, <i>placing his +basket on the ground</i>. <i>With his stick he absently +moves the grass and leaves that lie before him</i>, <i>and is so +deeply lost in his own thoughts that he does not hear the +approach of</i> <span class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>until they are by his side</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Here’s the very +man to tell us all we want to know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Why, if +’tisn’t George from Ox Lease.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>half rises</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. No, sit you down +again, my lad, and we’ll rest awhile by the side of +you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. That’s it, +Miles. Nothing couldn’t have fallen out better for +us, I’m thinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. You’re about +right, Luke. Now, George, my man, we should very much +appreciate a few words with you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Taking up his +basket</i>.] Morning baint the time for words, +masters. I count as words will keep till the set of +sun. ’Tis otherwise with work.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Work, why, George, +’tis clear you are come out but to gather flowers this +morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. ’Tis the very +first time as ever I caught George an idling away of his time +like this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Tis over to +Brook as I be going, masters, to fetch back a couple of young +chicken. Ourn be mostly old fowls, or pullets what do +lay.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. I never heard tell of +young chicken being ate up at Ox Lease afore July was in.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Nor me neither, +master. Never heared nor seed such a thing. But +mistress, her says, you can’t sit a maid from town at table +unless there be poultry afore of she. They be rare nesh in +their feeding, maids from town, so mistress do say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. That just brings us to +our little matter, George. When is it that you expect the +young lady?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. The boxes of they be +stacked mountains high in the bedroom since yesterday. And +I count as the maids will presently come on their own feet from +where the morning coach do set them down.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Nay, but there’s +only one maid what’s expected.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Miss Clara, +what’s master’s sister; and the serving wench of +she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Well, George, +’twas a great day for your master when old Madam Lovel took +little Miss Clara to be bred up as one of the quality.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. A water plant do grow +best by the stream, and a blossom, from the meadows, midst the +grass. Let each sort bide in the place where ’twas +seeded.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. No, no, George, you +don’t know what you’re talking about. A little +country wench may bloom into something very modish and elegant, +once taken from her humble home and set amongst carpets of velvet +and curtains of satin. You’ll see.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Twould be a +poor thing for any one to be so worked upon by curtains, nor yet +carpets, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Take my word for it, +George, Ox Lease will have to smarten up a bit for this young +lady. I know the circles she has been moving in, and +’tis to the best of everything that she has been used.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] That’s what mistress do say. +And that’s why I be sent along down to Brook with haymaking +going on and all. Spring chicken with sparrow grass be the +right feeding for such as they. So mistress do count.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Stop a moment, +George. You have perhaps heard the letters from Miss Clara +discussed in the family from time to time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Miss Clara did never +send but two letters home in all the while she was gone. +The first of them did tell as how th’ old lady was dead and +had left all of her fortune to Miss Clara. And the second +was to say as how her was coming back to the farm this +morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. And hark you here, +George, was naught mentioned about Miss Clara’s fine +suitors in neither of them letters?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. That I cannot say, +Master Jenner.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Nothing of their +swarming thick around her up in London, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. They may be swarming +by the thousand for aught as I do know. They smells gold as +honey bees do smell the blossom. Us’ll have a good +few of them a-buzzing round the farm afore we’re many hours +older, so I counts.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Well, George, +that’ll liven up the place a bit, I don’t doubt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. ’Tis a bit of +quiet and no livening as Ox Lease do want. Isn’t that +so, George, my lad?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Preparing to set +off</i>.] I’ll say good morning to you, +masters. I count I’ve been and wasted a smartish time +already on the road. We be a bit hard pressed up at the +farm this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. But George, my man, we +have a good many questions to ask of you before you set off.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Them questions will +have to bide till another time, I reckon. I’m got +late already, master.</p> +<p>[<i>He hurries off</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Arriving by the +morning coach! I shall certainly make my call to the farm +before sunset. What do you say, Jenner?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. You’re a rich +man, Miles, and I am poor. But we have always been +friends.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. And our fathers before +us, Luke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. And the courting of the +same maid shall not come between us.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Slowly</i>.] +That’ll be all right, Luke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. What I do say is, +let’s start fair. Neck to neck, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. As you please, my good +Luke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Then, do you tell me +honest, shall I do in the clothes I’m a-wearing of now, +Miles?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Regarding him +critically</i>.] That neckerchief is not quite the thing, +Luke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. ’Tis my Sunday +best.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Step over to the High +Street with me, my lad. I’ve got something in the +shop that will be the very thing. You shall have it half +price for ’tis only a bit damaged in one of the +corners.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. I’m sure +I’m very much obliged to you, Miles.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. That’s all +right, Luke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. George would look +better to my thinking if there was a new coat to the back of +him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Ah, poor beggar, he +would, and no mistake.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. I warrant as Emily do +keep it afore him as how he was took in from off the road by +th’ old farmer in his day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. I flatter myself that +I have a certain way with the ladies. They come to me +confidential like and I tell them what’s what, and how +that, this or t’other is worn about town. But with +Missis Spring ’tis different. That’s a woman I +could never get the right side of no how.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Ah, poor Thomas! +There’s a man who goes down trod and hen scratched if you +like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. ’Tis altogether +a very poor place up at Ox Lease, for young Miss.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Pulling out his +watch</i>.] Time’s slipping on. What if we were +to stroll on to the shop and see about my neckerchief, Miles?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. I’m sure +I’m quite agreeable, Luke. ’Twill help to pass +away the morning.</p> +<p>[<i>He puts his arm in</i> <span +class="smcap">Luke’s</span> <i>and they go briskly off in +the direction of the village</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT I.—Scene 2.</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>comes through the wood</i>. +<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>is dressed in a long</i>, +<i>rich cloak and wears a bonnet that is brightly trimmed with +feathers and ribbons</i>. <span class="smcap">Joan</span> +<i>wears a cotton bonnet and small shawl</i>. <i>She +carries her mistress’s silken bag over her arm</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Pointing to the +fallen tree</i>.] There is the very resting place for +us. We will sit down under the trees for a while. +[<i>She seats herself</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Dusting the tree +with her handkerchief before she sits on it</i>.] Have we +much further to go, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Only a mile or two, so +far as I can remember.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. ’Tis rough work +for the feet, down in these parts, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. If London roads were +paved with diamonds I’d sooner have my feet treading this +rugged way that leads to home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. What sort of a place +shall we find it when we gets there, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I was but seven when I +left them all, Joan. And that is fourteen years ago +to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. So many years may bring +about some powerful big changes, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. But I dream that I +shall find all just as it was when I went away. Only that +Gran’ma won’t be there.</p> +<p>[<i>There is a short silence during which</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>seems lost in thought</i>. +<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>flicks the dust off her shoes +with a branch of leaves</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. ’Tis the coaches +I do miss down in these parts.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I would not have +driven one step of the way this morning, Joan. In my fancy +I have been walking up from the village and through the wood and +over the meadows since many a day. I have not forgotten one +turn of the path.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. The road has not +changed then, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. No. But it does +not seem quite so broad or so fine as I remembered it to +be. That is all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. And very likely the +house won’t seem so fine neither, mistress, after the grand +rooms which you have been used to.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. What company shall we +see there, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Well, there’s +Thomas, he is my brother, and Emily his wife. Then the two +children.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>After a short +silence</i>, <i>and as though to herself</i>.] And there +was George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Yes, mistress</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Georgie seemed so big +and tall to me in those days. I wonder how old he really +was, when I was seven.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Would that be a younger +brother of yours, like, mistress</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. No, George minded the +horses and looked after the cows and poultry. Sometimes he +would drive me into market with him on a Saturday. And in +the evenings I would follow him down to the pool to see the +cattle watered.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I’m mortal +afeared of cows, mistress. I could never abide the sight +nor the sound of those animals.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. You’ll soon get +over that, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. And I don’t care +for poultry neither, very much. I goes full of fear when I +hears one of they old turkey cocks stamping about.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Pulling up the +sleeve of her left arm</i>.] There, do you see this little +scar? I was helping George to feed the ducks and geese when +the fierce gander ran after me and knocked me down and took a +piece right out of my arm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Looking intently on +the scar</i>.] I have often seen that there mark, +mistress. And do you think as that old gander will be +living along of the poultry still?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I wish he might be, +Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. What with the cows and +the horses and the ganders, we shall go with our lives in our +hands, as you might say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>As though to +herself</i>.] When the days got colder, we would sit under +the straw rick, George and I. And he would sing to +me. Some of his songs, I could say off by heart this +day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Looking nervously +upward</i>.] O do look at that nasty little thing dropping +down upon us from a piece of thread silk. Who ever put such +a thing up in the tree I’d like to know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Brushing it gently +aside</i>.] That won’t hurt you—a tiny +caterpillar.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>After a +moment</i>.] What more could the farm hand do, +mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. He would clasp on his +bells and dance in the Morris on certain days, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. ’Tis to be hoped +as there’ll be some dancing or something to liven us all up +a bit down here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Why, Joan, I believe +you’re tired already of the country.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. ’Tis so powerful +quiet and heavy like, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. ’Tis full of +sounds. Listen to the doves in the trees and the lambs +calling from the meadow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I’d sooner have +the wheels of the coaches and the cries upon the street, and the +door bell a ringing every moment and fine gentlemen and ladies +being shewn up into the parlour.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Stretching out her +arms</i>.] O how glad I am to be free of all that. +And most of all, how glad to be ridded of one person.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. His lordship will +perhaps follow us down here, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. No, I have forbidden +it. I must have a month of quiet, and he is to wait that +time for his answer.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O mistress, +you’ll never disappoint so fine a gentleman.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. You forget that Lord +Lovel and I have played together as children. It is as a +brother that I look upon him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. His lordship +don’t look upon you as a sister, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Rising</i>.] +That is a pity, Joan. But see, it is getting late and we +must be moving onwards.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>rises and smoothes and +shakes out her skirt</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Here, loosen my cloak, +Joan, and untie the ribbons of my bonnet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O mistress, keep the +pretty clothes upon you till you have got to the house.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. No, no—such town +garments are not suited to the woods and meadows. I want to +feel the country breeze upon my head, and my limbs must be free +from the weight of the cloak. I had these things upon me +during the coach journey. They are filled with road dust +and I dislike them now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Unfastening the +cloak and untying the bonnet</i>.] They are fresh and +bright for I brushed and shook them myself this morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Retying a blue +ribbon which she wears in her hair</i>.] I have taken a +dislike to them. See here, Joan, since you admire them, +they shall be yours.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Mine? The French +bonnet and the satin cloak?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. To comfort you for the +pains of the country, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O mistress, let us stop +a moment longer in this quiet place so that I may slip them on +and see how they become me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. As you will. +Listen, that is the cuckoo singing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Throwing off her +cotton bonnet and shawl and dressing herself hastily in the +bonnet and cloak</i>.] O what must it feel like to be a +grand lady and wear such things from dawn to bed time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I am very glad to be +without them for a while. How good the air feels on my +head.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. There, mistress, how do +I look?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Very nicely, +Joan. So nicely that if you like, you may keep them upon +you for the remainder of the way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O mistress, may I +really do so?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Yes. And Joan, +do you go onwards to the farm by the quickest path which is +through this wood and across the high road. Anyone will +shew you where the place is. I have a mind to wander about +in some of the meadows which I remember. But I will join +you all in good time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Very well, +mistress. If I set off in a few moments it will do, I +suppose? I should just like to take a peep at myself as I +am now, in the little glass which you carry in your silk bag.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Going +off</i>.] Don’t spend too much time looking at what +will be shewn you, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Never fear, +mistress. I’ll be there afore you, if I have to run +all the way. [<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>wanders +off</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>sits down again on the +trunk of the fallen tree</i>. <i>She opens the silken +bag</i>, <i>draws out a small hand glass and looks long and +steadily at her own reflection</i>. <i>Then she glances +furtively around and</i>, <i>seeing that she is quite alone</i>, +<i>she takes a small powder box from the bag and hastily opening +it</i>, <i>she gives her face several hurried touches with the +powder puff</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Surveying the +effect in the glass</i>.] Just to take off the brown of my +freckles. Now if any one was to come upon me sitting here +they wouldn’t know as I was other than a real, high +lady. All covered with this nice cloak as I be, the French +bonnet on my head, and powder to my face, who’s to tell the +difference? But O—these must be hid first.</p> +<p>[<i>She perceives her cotton bonnet and little shawl on the +ground</i>. <i>She hastily rolls them up in a small bundle +and stuffs them into the silken bag</i>. <i>Then she takes +up the glass and surveys herself again</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. How should I act now if +some grand gentleman was to come up and commence talking to +me? Perhaps he might even take me for a lady of title in +these fine clothes, and ’twould be a pity to have to +undeceive him.</p> +<p>[<i>She arranges her hair a little under the bonnet and then +lowers the lace veil over her face</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>come slowly up behind her</i>. +<span class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>nudges</i> <span +class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>with his elbow</i>, <i>signing to +him to remain where he is whilst he steps forward in front of</i> +<span class="smcap">Joan</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Pardon me, madam, but +you appear to have mistook the way. Allow me to set you on +the right path for Ox Lease.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Letting the mirror +fall on her lap and speaking very low</i>.] How do you know +I am going to Ox Lease, sir?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. You see, madam, I +happen to know that a stylish young miss from town is expected +there to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Coming forward and +speaking in a loud whisper</i>.] Now Miles. I count +as you made one of the biggest blunders of the time. Our +young lady be journeying along of her servant wench. This +one baint she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. If we have made a +small error, madam, allow me to beg your pardon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Don’t mention it, +sir. Everyone is mistaken sometimes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Well, I’m +powerful sorry if we have given any offence, mam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Looking up at</i> +<span class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>with sudden boldness and +speaking in a slow</i>, <i>affected voice</i>.] +There’s nothing to make so much trouble about, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Can we be of any +assistance to you, madam? The wood may appear rather dense +at this point.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. That it does. +Dense and dark—and the pathway! My goodness, but my +feet have never travelled over such rough ground before.</p> +<p>Muss. That I am sure of, madam. I have no doubt +that the delicate texture of your shoes has been sadly treated by +our stones and ruts.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Insensibly pulling +her skirts over her thick walking shoes</i>.] Well, +it’s vastly different to London streets, where I generally +take exercise—at least when I’m not a-riding in the +coach.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. The country is but a +sad place at the best, Miss Clara Spring.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Looking round +furtively and speaking in a whisper</i>.] O, how did you +guess my—my name?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Come, +’twasn’t a hard matter, that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Missey can command my +services.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Rallying</i>, +<i>and standing up</i>.] Then gentlemen, do you walk a bit +of the road with me and we could enjoy some conversation as we go +along.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Offering his +arm</i>.] You take my arm, Miss Clara—do—.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Also offering his +arm</i>.] I shall also give myself the pleasure of +supporting Miss.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Taking an arm of +each</i>.] O thank you, kindly gentlemen. Now we +shall journey very comfortably, I am sure.</p> +<p>[<i>They all set out walking in the direction of the +farm</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>The kitchen of Ox Lease Farm</i>. <i>There are three +doors</i>. <i>One opens to the staircase</i>, <i>one to the +garden and a third into the back kitchen</i>. <i>At a table +in the middle of the room</i> <span class="smcap">Emily</span> +<i>stands ironing some net window curtains</i>. <span +class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robin</span> <i>lean against the table watching +her</i>. <i>By the open doorway</i>, <i>looking out on the +garden</i>, <i>stands</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, <i>a +mug of cider in one hand and a large slice of bread in the +other</i>. <i>As he talks</i>, <i>he takes alternate drinks +and bites</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Speaking in a +shrill</i>, <i>angry voice</i>.] Now Thomas, suppose you +was to take that there bread a step further away and eat it in +the garden, if eat it you must, instead of crumbling it all over +my clean floor.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Don’t you be so +testy, Emily. The dogs’ll lick the crumbs up as clean +as you like presently.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Dogs? I’d +like to see the dog as’ll shew its nose in here to-day when +I’ve got it all cleaned up against the coming of fine young +madam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Finishing his +bread and looking wistfully at his empty hand</i>.] The +little maid’ll take a brush and sweep up her daddy’s +crumbs, now, won’t her?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I’ll give it to +any one who goes meddling in my brush cupboard now that +I’ve just put all in order against the prying and nozzling +of the good-for-nothing baggage what’s coming along with +your sister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. What’s baggage, +Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. +[<i>Sharply</i>.] Never you mind. Get and take your +elbow off my ironing sheet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Looking at her +father</i>.] I count as you’d like a piece more +bread, Dad?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Well, I don’t +say but ’twouldn’t come amiss. ’Tis +hungry work in th’ hayfield. And us be to go without +our dinners this day, isn’t that so, Emily?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Slamming down her +iron on the stand</i>.] If I’ve told you once, +I’ve told you twenty times, ’twas but the one pair of +hands as I was gived at birth. Now, what have you got to +say against that, Thomas?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. +[<i>Sheepishly</i>.] I’m sure I don’t know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. And if so be as +I’m to clean and wash and cook, and run, and wait, and +scour, and mend, for them lazy London minxes, other folk must go +without hot cooking at mid-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. +[<i>Faintly</i>.] ’Twasn’t nothing cooked, +like. ’Twas a bit of bread as I did ask for.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Getting +up</i>.] I’ll get it for you, Dad. I know where +the loaf bides and the knife too. I’ll cut you, O +such a large piece.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Seizing her +roughly by the hand</i>.] You’ll do nothing of the +sort. You’ll take this here cold iron into Maggie and +you’ll bring back one that is hot. How am I to get +these curtains finished and hung and all, by the time the dressed +up parrots come sailing in, I’d like to know.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>runs away with the +iron</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Setting down his +mug and coming to the table</i>.] I’d leave the +windows bare if it was me, Emily. The creeping rose do form +the suitablest shade for they, to my thinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. That shews how much +you know about it, Thomas. No, take your hands from off my +table. Do you think as I wants dirty thumbs shewing all +over the clean net what I’ve washed and dried and ironed, +and been a-messing about with since ’twas light?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Now that’s what +I be trying for to say. There’s no need for you to go +and work yourself into the fidgets, Emily, because of little +Clara coming back. Home’s home. And +’twon’t be neither the curtains nor the hot dinner as +Clara will be thinking of when her steps into th’ old place +once more.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Running back with +the hot iron which she sets down on the table</i>.] What +will Aunt Clara be thinking of then, Dad?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Shy and abashed +under a withering glance from</i> <span +class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>who has taken up the iron and is +slamming it down on the net</i>.] Her’ll remember, +very like, how ’twas when her left—some fourteen year +ago. And her’ll have her eyes on +Gran’ma’s chair, what’s empty.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. I should be thinking +of the hot fowl and sparrow grass what’s for dinner.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. And her’ll look +up to th’ old clock, and different things what’s +still in their places. The grand parts where she have been +bred up will be forgot. ’Twill be only home as +her’ll think on.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I haven’t +patience to listen to such stuff.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>After a +pause</i>.] I count that ’tisn’t likely as a +young woman what’s been left riches as Clara have, would +choose to make her home along of such as we for always, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. We have perches and +plenty of them for barn door poultry, but when it comes to +roosting spangled plumes and fancy fowls, no thank you, Thomas, +I’m not going to do it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Do let us get and +roost some fancy fowls, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. What are spangled +plumes, Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. +[<i>Viciously</i>.] You’ll see plenty of them +presently.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Will Aunt Clara bring +the fowls along of she?</p> +<p>[<i>A slight pause during which</i> <span +class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>irons vigorously</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>As she +irons</i>.] Some folk have all the honey. It do +trickle from the mouths of them and down to the ground.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Has Aunt Clara got her +mouth very sticky, then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. And there be others +what are born to naught but crusts and the vinegar.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Like you, +Mother—Least, that’s what Maggie said this +morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. What’s that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. That ’twas in +the vinegar jar as your tongue had growed, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I’ll learn that +wench to keep her thoughts to herself if she can’t fetch +them out respectful like. [<i>Shouting</i>.] Mag, +come you here this minute—what are you after now, I’d +like to know, you ugly, idle piece of mischief?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Maggie</span>, <i>wiping a plate comes +from the back kitchen</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. Was you calling, +mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. What’s this +you’ve got saying to Miss Jessie, I should like to +know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Running to</i> +<span class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>and laying her hand on her +arm</i>.] Dear Maggie, ’tis only what you did tell +about poor mother’s tongue being in the vinegar jar.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. O Miss Jessie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Hark you here, my +girl—if ’twasn’t hay time you should bundle up +your rags and off with you this minute. But as ’tis +awkward being short of a pair of hands just now, you’ll +bide a week or two and then you’ll get outside of my door +with no more character to you nor what I took you with.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Come, come +Emily. The girl’s a good one for to work, and that +she is.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Be quiet, +Thomas. This is my business, and you’ll please to +keep your words till they’re wanted.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. O mistress, I +didn’t mean no harm, I didn’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I don’t want no +words nor no tears neither.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. [<i>Beginning to cry +loudly</i>.] I be the only girl as have stopped with you +more nor a month, I be. T’others wouldn’t bide +a day, some of them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Be quiet. Back +to your work with you. And when the hay is all carried, off +with you, ungrateful minx, to where you came from.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. O let us keep her +always, Mother, she’s kind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Don’t you cry, +Mag. I’ll marry you when I’m a big man like +Daddy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Harken to them, +Emily! She’s been a good maid to the children. +I’d not part with any one so hasty, if ’twas me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Very +angrily</i>.] When I want your opinion, Thomas, I’ll +ask for it. Suppose you was to go out and see after +something which you do understand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. O I’ll go down +to the field fast enough, I can tell you. ’Twas only +being hungered as drove me into the hornets’ nest, as you +might say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Ironing +fiercely</i>.] What’s that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Nothing. I did +only say as I was a-going back to the field when George do come +home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. There again. Did +you ever know the man to be so slow before. I warrant as he +have gone drinking or mischiefing down at the Spotted Cow instead +of coming straight home with they chicken.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Nay, nay. +George is not the lad to do a thing like that. A quieter +more well bred up lad nor George never trod in shoes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span> [<i>Glancing at</i> <span +class="smcap">Maggie</span>.] What are you tossing your +head like that for, Maggie? Please to recollect as +you’re a lazy, good-for-nothing little slut of a maid +servant, and not a circus pony all decked out for the show.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Maggie’s fond +of Georgie. And Georgie’s kind to Mag.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. +[<i>Fearfully</i>.] O don’t, Miss Jessie, for +goodness sake.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. +[<i>Viciously</i>.] I’ll soon put an end to anything +in that quarter.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Now, Emily—take +it quiet. Why, we shall have Clara upon us before us knows +where we are.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Folding the +curtains</i>.] I’ll settle her too, if she comes +before I’m ready for her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>Pointing through +the open</i>.] There’s George, coming with the +basket.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>comes into the +room</i>. <i>He carefully rubs his feet on the mat as he +enters</i>. <i>Then he advances to the table</i>. +<span class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>dries her eyes with the back +of her hand</i>. <span class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>is +standing with her arm in</i> <span +class="smcap">Maggie’s</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Well, and where have +you been all this while, I’d like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. To Brook Farm, mam, +and home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. You’ve been up +to some mischief on the way, I warrant.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Come, Emily.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>looks calmly into</i> +<span class="smcap">Emily’s</span> <i>face</i>. +<i>Then his gaze travels leisurely round the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I was kept waiting +while they did pluck and dress the chicken.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Lifting the cloth +covering the basket</i>, <i>and looking within it</i>.] +I’d best have gone myself. Of all the thick-headed +men I ever did see, you’re the thickest. Upon my word +you are.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. What’s wrong +now, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. ’Taint chicken +at all what you’ve been and fetched me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I’ll be blowed +if I do know what ’tis then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. If I’d been +given a four arms and legs at birth same as th’ horses, +I’d have left a pair of them at home and gone and done the +job myself, I would. And then you should see what I’d +have brought back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. You can’t +better what I’ve got here. From the weight it might +be two fat capons. So it might.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Seizing the basket +roughly</i>.] Here, Mag, off into the pantry with +them. A couple of skinny frogs from out the road ditch +would have done as well. And you, Jess, upstairs with these +clean curtains and lay them careful on the bed. I’ll +put them to the windows later.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. George, my boy, did +you meet with any one on the way, like?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. You’d best ask +no questions if you don’t want to be served with lies, +Thomas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Throwing a glance +of disdain at</i> <span class="smcap">Emily</span>.] Miles +Hooper and Farmer Jenner was taking the air ’long of one +another in the wood, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Miles Hooper and Luke +a-taking of the air, and of a weekday morning!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. That they was, +master. And they did stop I—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Ah, now you’ve +got it, Thomas. Now we shall know why George was upon the +road the best part of the day and me kept waiting for the +chicken.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. +[<i>Steadily</i>.] Sunday clothes to the back of both of +them. And, when was Miss Clara expected up at home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Ah, ’tis a fair +commotion all over these parts already, I warrant. There +wasn’t nothing else spoke of in market last time, but how +as sister Clara with all her money was to come home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Coming +back</i>.] I’ve laid the curtains on the bed, shall I +gather some flowers and set them on the table, mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I’d like to see +you! Flowers in the bedroom? I never heard tell of +such senseless goings on. What next, I’d like to +know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Miss Clara always did +fill a mug of clover blooms and set it aside of her bed when her +was a little thing—so high.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Do you remember our +fine aunt, then, Georgie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I remembers Miss +Clara right enough.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Don’t you +flatter yourself, George, as such a coxsy piece of town goods +will trouble herself to remember you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. The little maid had a +good enough heart to her afore she was took away from us.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Do you think our aunt +Clara has growed into a coxsy town lady, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. No, I do not, Miss +Jessie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Beginning to stir +about noisily as she sets the kitchen in order</i>.] Get +off with you to the field, Thomas, can’t you. +I’ve had enough to do as ’tis without a great hulking +man standing about and taking up all the room.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Come, George, +us’ll clear out down to th’ hay field, and snatch a +bite as we do go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. That’s it, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Calling angrily +after them</i>.] There’s no dinner for no one to-day, +I tell you.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>go out of the back kitchen +door</i>. <span class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>begins +putting the irons away</i>, <i>folding up the ironing sheet and +setting the chairs back against the wall</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robin</span>, <i>from their places at the +table</i>, <i>watch her intently</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>As she moves +about</i>.] ’Twouldn’t be half the upset if the +wench was coming by herself, but to have a hussy of a serving +maid sticking about in the rooms along of us, is more nor I can +stand.</p> +<p>[<i>She begins violently to sweep up the hearth</i>.</p> +<p>[<i>Steps are heard outside</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Hark, what’s +that, mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I’ll give it to +any one who wants to come in here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Running to the +open door</i>.] They’re coming up the path. +’Tis our fine auntie and two grand gentlemen either side of +she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>Running also to +the door</i>.] O I want to look on her too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Putting the broom +in a corner</i>.] ’Tis no end to the vexation. +But she’ll have to wait on herself. I’ve no +time to play the dancing bear. And that I’ve not.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>between</i> <span +class="smcap">Miles Hooper</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Luke Jenner</span>, <i>comes up to the open +door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>To +Jessie</i>.] See here, my little maid, what’ll you +give Mister Hooper for bringing this pretty lady safe up to the +farm?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. I know who ’tis +you’ve brought. ’Tis my Aunt Clara.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. You’re a smart +little wench, if ever there was one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. I know who ’tis, +too, ’cause of the spangled plumes in the bonnet of +she. Mother said as there’d be some.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Coming +forward</i>.] Well, Clara, if ’twas by the morning +coach as you did come, you’re late. If ’twas by +th’ evening one, you’re too soon by a good few +hours.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Having come by the +morning coach, Miss Clara had the pleasant fancy to stroll here +through the woodlands, Missis Spring.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Ah, and ’twas +lost on the way as we did find her, like a strayed sheep.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. And ours has been the +privilege to bring the fair wanderer safely home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Scornfully +looking</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>over from head to +foot</i>.] Where’s that serving wench of yours got +to, Clara?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Our young missy had a +wish for solitude. She sent her maid on by another +road.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. The good-for-nothing +hussy. I warrant as she have found something of mischief +for her idle hands to do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. If I may venture to +say so, our Miss Clara is somewhat fatigued by her long +stroll. London young ladies are very delicately framed, +Missis Spring.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Pointing +ungraciously</i>.] There’s chairs right in front of +you.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>lead</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>forward</i>, <i>placing her in an +armchair with every attention</i>. <span +class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>sinks into it</i>, <i>and</i>, +<i>taking a little fan from the silken bag on her arm</i>, +<i>begins to fan herself violently</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Watching her with +fierce contempt</i>.] Maybe as you’d like my kitchen +wench to come and do that for you, Clara, seeing as your fine +maid is gadding about the high roads instead of minding what it +concerns her to attend to.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Faintly</i>.] +O no, thank you. The day is rather warm—that’s +all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Warm, I should think +it was warm in under of that great white curtain.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Aunt Clara, I’m +Jessie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Are you, my dear?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. And I’m +Robin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Now, I wager, if you +are both good little children, this pretty lady will give you +each a kiss.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Faintly</i>.] +To be sure I will.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Then you’ll +have to take off that white thing from your face. +’Tis like what mother do spread over the currant bushes to +keep the birds from the fruit.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>slowly raises her +veil</i>, <i>showing her face</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Shall I give you a +kiss, Aunt?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I’d be careful +if I was you, Jess. Fine ladies be brittle as fine +china.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. O I’ll kiss her +very lightly, Mother.</p> +<p>[<i>She goes up to</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>and +kisses her</i>. <span class="smcap">Robin</span> <i>then +reaches up his face and</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span> +<i>kisses him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>Rubbing his +mouth</i>.] The flour do come from Aunt same as it does +from a new loaf.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span>.] You must pardon these ignorant +little country brats, Miss Clara.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O there’s nothing +amiss, thank you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Amiss, who said as +there was? When folks what can afford to lodge at the inn +do come down and fasten theirselves on the top of poor people, +they must take things as they do find them and not start +grumbling at the first set off.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. There, there, Missis +Spring. There wasn’t naught said about +grumbling. But Miss Clara have come a smartish long +distance, and it behoves us all as she should find summat of a +welcome at the end of her journey, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Aside to</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span>.] How strange this country tongue +must fall on your ears, Miss Clara!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I don’t +understand about half of what they say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Overhearing +her</i>.] O, you don’t, don’t you. Well, +Clara, I was always one for plain words, and I say ’tis a +pity when folks do get above the position to which they was bred, +and for all the fine satins and plumes upon you, the body +what’s covered by them belongs to Clara Spring, +what’s sister to Thomas. And all the world knows what +Thomas is—A poor, mean spirited, humble born man with but +two coats to the back of him, and with not a thought to the mind +of him which is not foolishness. And I judge from by what +they be in birth, and not by the bags of gold what have been left +them by any old madams in their dotage. So now you see how +I takes it all and you and me can start fair, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Luke</span>.] O Mister—Mister Jenner, I +feel so faint.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Taking her +fan</i>.] Allow me. [<i>He begins to fan +her</i>.] I assure you she means nothing by it. +It’s her way. You see, she knows no better.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. I’d fetch out +summat for her to eat if I was you, missis. ’Tis +famished as the poor young maid must be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. She should have come +when ’twas meal time then. I don’t hold with +bites nor drinks in between whiles.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O I’m dying for a +glass of milk—or water would do as well.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. My dear young +lady—anything to oblige. [<i>Turning to +Jessie</i>.] Come, my little maid, see if you can’t +make yourself useful in bringing a tray of refreshment for your +auntie. And you [<i>turning to Robin</i>] trot off and help +sister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Not if I know +it. Stop where you are, Jess. Robin, you dare to +move. If Clara wants to eat and drink I’m afeared she +must wait till supper time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. There be chicken and +sparrow grass for supper, Aunt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. And a great pie of +gooseberries.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Faintly</i>.] +O I couldn’t touch a mouthful of food, don’t speak to +me about it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. I likes talking of +dinner. After I’ve done eating of it, I likes next +best to talk about it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. See here, missis. +Let’s have a glass of summat cool for Miss Clara.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Calling +angrily</i>.] Maggie, Maggie, where are you, you great +lazy-boned donkey?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. [<i>Comes in from the +back kitchen</i>, <i>her apron held to her eyes</i>.] Did +you call me, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Get up a bucket of +water from the well. Master’s sister wants a +drink.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. [<i>Between +sobs</i>.] Shall I bring it in the bucket, or would the +young lady like it in a jug?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>With +exasperation</i>.] There’s no end to the worriting +that other folks do make.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Let me go and help +poor Maggie, mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span>.] Do you know what Maggie’s +crying for, Aunt Clara?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I’m sure I +don’t, little boy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. ’Tis because +she’s got to go. Mother’s sent her off. +’Twas what she said of mother’s tongue.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Roughly taking +hold of</i> <span class="smcap">Robin</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Jessie</span>.] Come you along with me, you +ill-behaved little varmints. ’Tis the back kitchen +and the serving maid as is the properest place for such as +you. I’ll not have you bide ’mongst the company +no longer. [<i>She goes out with the children and followed +by</i> <span class="smcap">Maggie</span>.]</p> +<p>[<i>Directly they have left the room</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>whose manner has been nervously +shrinking</i>, <i>seems to recover herself and she assumes a +languid</i>, <i>artificial air</i>, <i>badly imitating the ways +of a lady of fashion</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Fanning herself +with her handkerchief and her fan</i>.] Well, I never did +meet with such goings on before.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. You and I know how +people conduct themselves in London, Miss Clara. We must +not expect to find the same polite ways down here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Come now, +’tisn’t so bad as all that with we. There baint +many what has the tongue of mistress yonder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I’m quite unused +to such people.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. And yet, Miss Clara, +’tisn’t as though they were exactly strangers to you +like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. They feel as good as +strangers to me, any way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Ah, how well I +understand that, Miss. ’Tisn’t very often as we +lay a length of fine silken by the side of unbleached woollen at +my counters.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I could go through with +it better perhaps, if I didn’t feel so terrible faint and +sinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Going to the back +kitchen door</i>.] Here, Maggie, stir yourself up a +bit. The lady is near fainting, I do count.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Runs in with a +tray on which is a jug of water and a glass</i>.] I’m +bringing the drink for Aunt, Mr. Jenner. Maggie’s +crying ever so badly, and Mother’s sent her upstairs to +wash her face and put her hair tidy.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>puts the tray on the +table near to where</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>is +sitting</i>. <span class="smcap">Miles Hoofer</span> +<i>busies himself in pouring out a glass of water and in handing +it with a great deal of exaggerated deference to</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. +[<i>Drinking</i>.] Such a coarse glass!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Ah, you must let me +send you up one from my place during your stay here. Who +could expect a lady to drink from such a thing as that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Laying aside the +glass</i>.] There’s a taste of mould in the water +too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. It’s +fresh. Mother drawed it up from the well, she did.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Looking +disdainfully round on the room</i>.] Such a strange +room. So very common.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Nay, you mustn’t +judge of the house by this. Don’t you recollect the +parlour yonder, with the stuffed birds and the chiney +cupboard?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Looking round +again</i>.] Such an old-fashioned place as this I never did +see. ’Tis a low sort of room too, no carpet on the +boards nor cloth to the table, nor nothing elegant.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Ah, we find the +mansions in town very different to a country farm house, +don’t we Miss?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I should think we did, +Mister Hooper. Why, look at that great old wooden chair by +the hearth? Don’t it look un-stylish, upon my word, +with no cushions to it nor nothing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Coming quite +close to</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>and looking +straight into her face</i>.] That’s great +gran’ma’s chair, what Dad said you’d be best +pleased for to see.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>looks very confused and +begins to fan herself hastily</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. And th’ old +clock’s another thing what Dad did say as you’d look +upon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O the old clock’s +well enough, to be sure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. I did want to gather +a nosegay of flowers to set in your bedroom, Aunt, but Mother, +she said, no.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. +[<i>Languidly</i>.] I must say I don’t see any +flowers blooming here that I should particular care about having +in my apartment.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. And Father said as +how you’d like to smell the blossoms in the garden. +And Georgie told as how you did use to gather the clover blooms +when you was a little girl and set them by you where you did +sleep.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Crossly</i>.] +O run away, child, I’m tired to death with all this +chatter. How would you like to be so pestered after such a +travel over the rough country roads as I have had?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Now, my little maid, +off you go. Take back the tray to Mother, and be careful as +you don’t break the glasses on it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Taking up the +tray</i>.] I’m off to play in the hayfield along of +Robin, then.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>opens the back kitchen +door for her and she goes out</i>. <i>Meanwhile</i> <span +class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>has taken up the fan and is +fanning</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>who leans back in +her chair with closed eyes and exhausted look</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Coming to her side +and sitting down</i>.] ’Twill seem more homelike when +Thomas do come up from the field.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Raising herself and +looking at him</i>.] You mustn’t trouble about me, +Mister Jenner. I shall be quite comfortable presently.</p> +<p>[<i>The back door opens and</i> <span +class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>comes hurriedly in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. Please, mistress, +there be a young person a-coming through the rick yard.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. +[<i>Nervously</i>.] A young person?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. Mistress be at the +gooseberries a-gathering of them, and the children be gone off to +th’ hay field.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. ’Tis very likely +your serving maid, dear Miss. Shall I fetch the young woman +in to you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. My maid, did you +say? My maid?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Ah, depend on it, +’tis she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. The young person do +have all the looks of a serving wench, mistress. She be +tramping over the yard with naught but a white handkerchief over +the head of she and a poking into most of the styes and a-calling +of the geese and poultry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. That’s her, right +enough. Bring her in, Mag.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. +[<i>Agitatedly</i>.] No, no—I mean—I want to +see her particular—and alone. I’ll go to meet +her. You—gentlemen—[<span +class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>goes slowly into the back +kitchen</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Placing a chair +for</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span>.] Delicate ladies +should not venture out into the heat at this time of day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>With sudden +resolution ignoring the chair and going to the window</i>.] +Then, do you two kind gentlemen take a stroll in the +garden. I have need of the services of my—my young +woman. But when she has put me in order after the dusty +journey, I shall ask you to be good enough to come back and while +away an hour for me in this sad place.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. +[<i>Fervently</i>.] Anything to oblige a lady, miss.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. That’s +right. Us’ll wait while you do lay aside your +bonnet.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>go out through the garden +door</i>. <span class="smcap">Miles</span>, <i>turning to +bow low before he disappears</i>. <span +class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>stands as though distraught in the +middle of the room</i>. <i>Through the open door of the +back kitchen the voices of</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>are distinctly +heard</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Is no one at home +then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. Ah, go you straight +on into the kitchen, you’ll find whom you be searching for +in there. I’d take and shew you in myself only +I’m wanted down to th’ hayfield now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Don’t put +yourself to any trouble about me. I know my way.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>comes into the +kitchen</i>. <i>She has tied a white handkerchief over her +head</i>, <i>and carries a bunch of wildflowers in her +hands</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Still in your cloak +and bonnet! Why, I thought by now you would have unpacked +our things and made yourself at home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Joining her hands +supplicatingly and coming towards</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span>, <i>speaking almost in a +whisper</i>.] O mistress, you’ll never guess what +I’ve been and done. But ’twasn’t all my +fault at the commencement.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Looking her over +searchingly</i>.] You do look very disturbed, Joan, what +has happened?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. ’Twas the fine +bonnet and cloak, mam. ’Twas they as did it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Did what?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Put the thought into my +head, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. What thought?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. As how ’twould +feel to be a real grand lady, like you, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. What then, Joan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. So I began to pretend +all to myself as how that I was one, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Come, tell me all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. And whilst I was sat +down upon that fallen tree, and sort of pretending to myself, the +two gentlemen came along.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. What gentlemen?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Gentlemen as was after +courting you, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Courting me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Yes, and they commenced +speaking so nice and respectful like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Go on, Joan, +don’t be afraid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. It did seem to fall in +with the game I was a-playing with myself. And then, before +I did know how, ’twas they was both of them a-taking me for +you, mam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. And did you not +un-deceive them, Joan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Very +ashamedly</i>.] No, mam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. You should have told +them the truth about yourself at once.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O I know I should have, +mistress. But there was something as held me back when I +would have spoke the words.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I wonder what that +could have been?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. ’Twas them being +such very nice and kind gentlemen. And, O mistress, +you’ll not understand it, because you’ve told me many +times as the heart within you have never been touched by +love.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Suddenly sitting +down</i>.] And has yours been touched to-day, Joan, by +love?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. That it have, +mistress. Love have struck at it heavily.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Through which of the +gentlemen did it strike, Joan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Through both. +Leastways, ’tis Mister Jenner that my feelings do go out +most quickly to, mistress. But ’tis Mister Hooper who +do court the hardest and who has the greatest riches like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Well, and what do you +want me to do or to say now, Joan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. See here, mistress, I +want you to give me a chance. They’ll never stoop to +wed me if they knows as I’m but a poor serving maid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Your dressing up as a +fine lady won’t make you other than what you are, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Once let me get the +fish in my net, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Are you proposing to +catch the two, Joan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I shall take the one as +do offer first, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. That’ll be +Mister Hooper, I should think.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I should go riding in +my own chaise, mistress, if ’twas him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. But, Joan, either of +these men would have to know the truth before there could be any +marriage.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I knows that full well, +mistress. But let one of them just offer hisself. By +that time my heart and his would be so closely twined together +like, ’twould take more nor such a little thing as my +station being low to part us.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>sits very still for a few +moments</i>, <i>looking straight before her</i>, <i>lost in +thought</i>. <span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>sinks on to +a chair by the table as though suddenly tired out</i>, <i>and she +begins to cry gently</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Listen, Joan. +I’m one for the straight paths. I like to walk in +open fields and over the bare heath. Only times come when +one is driven to take to the ways which are set with bushes and +with briars.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Lifting her head +and drying her eyes</i>.] O mistress, I feel to be asking +summat as is too heavy for you to give.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. But for a certain +thing, I could never have lent myself to this acting game of +yours, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. No, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Only that, to-day, my +heart too has gone from my own keeping.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O mistress, you +don’t mean to say as his lordship have followed us down +already.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. +[<i>Scornfully</i>.] His lordship! As if I should be +stirred by him!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Humbly</i>.] +Who might it be, mistress, if I may ask?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. ’Tis one who +would never look upon me with thoughts of love if I went to him +as I am now, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I can’t rightly +understand you, mam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. My case is just the +same as yours, Joan. You say that your fine gentlemen would +not look upon a serving maid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I’m certain of +it, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. And the man I—I +love will never let his heart go out to mine with the heaviness +of all these riches lying between us.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I count that gold do +pave the way for most of us, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. So for this once, I +will leave the clear high road, Joan. And you and I will +take a path that is set with thorns. Pray God they do not +wound us past healing at the end of our travel.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O mistress, +’twill be a lightsome journey for me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. But the moment that +you reach happiness, Joan, remember to confess.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. There won’t be +nothing to fear then, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Make him love you for +yourself, Joan. O we must each tie the heart of our true +love so tightly to our own that naught shall ever be able to cut +the bonds.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Yes, mistress, and +I’m sure I’m very much obliged to you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Ah, I am lending +myself to all this, because I, too, have something to win or +lose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Where did you meet him, +mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I did not meet +him. I stood on the high ground, and he passed below. +His face was raised to the light, and I saw its look. I +think my love for him has always lain asleep in my heart, +Joan. But when he passed beneath me in the meadow, it +awoke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O mistress, what sort +of an appearance has the gentleman?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I don’t know how +to answer you, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I count as it would +take a rare, grand looking man for to put his lordship into the +shadow, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. You are right there, +Joan. But now we must talk of your affairs. Your fine +courtiers will be coming in presently and you must know how to +receive them in a good way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. That’s what do +hamper me dreadful, my speech and other things. How would +it be if you was to help me a little bit, like?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. With all my heart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. How should I act so not +to be found out, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. You must speak little, +and low. Do not show haste in your goings and +comings. Put great care into your way of eating and +drinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O that will be a +fearsome hard task. What else?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. You must be sisterly +with Thomas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I’d clean forgot +him. I don’t doubt but what he’ll ferret out +the truth in no time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I don’t think +so. I was but a little child when I left him. He will +not remember how I looked. And our colouring is alike, +Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. ’Tis the eating +and drinking as do play most heavily upon my mind, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Then think of these +words as you sit at table. Eat as though you were not +hungry and drink as though there were no such thing as +thirst. Let your hands move about your plate as if they +were too tired to lift the knife and fork.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>darts to the +dresser</i>—<i>seizes up a plate with a knife and fork</i>, +<i>places them on the table and sits down before them</i>, +<i>pretending to cut up meat</i>. <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>watches her smilingly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Absently</i>, +<i>raising the knife to her mouth</i>.] How’s that, +mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Not so, not so, +Joan. That might betray you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. What, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. ’Tis the fork +which journeys to the mouth, and the knife stops at home on the +plate.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. +[<i>Dispiritedly</i>.] ’Tis almost more than I did +reckon for when I started.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Well, we mustn’t +think of that now. We must hold up our spirits, you and +I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Getting up and +putting away the crockery</i>.] I’d best take off the +bonnet and the cloak, mistress, hadn’t I?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Yes, that you +had. We will go upstairs together and I will help you +change into another gown. Come quickly so that we may have +plenty of time.</p> +<p>[<i>They go towards the staircase door</i>, <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>leading the way</i>. <i>With +her hand on the latch of the door she gives one look round the +kitchen</i>. <i>Then with a sudden movement she goes up to +the wooden armchair at the hearth and bends her head till her +lips touch it</i>, <i>she then runs upstairs</i>, <i>followed +by</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span>.</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 2.</h3> +<p><i>After a few moments</i> <span class="smcap">Miles +Hooper</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Luke Jenner</span> +<i>come into the kitchen</i>. <i>They both look round the +room enquiringly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Ah, she be still up +above with that there serving wench what’s come.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. My good man, you +didn’t expect our fair miss to have finished her toilet +under an hour, did you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. I don’t see what +there was to begin on myself, let alone finish.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. ’Tis clear you +know little of the ways of our town beauties, Luke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Still, I mean to have +my try with her, Miles Hooper.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. +[<i>Sarcastically</i>.] I’m quite agreeable, Mister +Jenner.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>come in</i>. <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>carries a bucket of water</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Where’s the +little maid got to? George and me be come up from the field +on purpose for to bid her welcome home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Miss is still at her +toilet, farmer.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>in a flowered silk +gown</i>, <i>comes slowly and carefully into the room</i>, +<i>followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span>, <i>who +carries a lace shawl over one arm</i>. <i>She has put on a +large white apron</i>, <i>but wears nothing on her head but the +narrow blue ribbon</i>. <i>During the following scene she +stands quietly</i>, <i>half hidden by the door</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>looks nervously round the +room</i>, <i>then she draws herself up very haughtily</i>. +<span class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>comes forward and bows +low</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Looking</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>up and down</i>.] Well, bless +my soul, who’d have guessed at the change it do make in a +wench?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Holding out her +hand</i>, <i>very coldly</i>.] A good afternoon to you, +sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Taking her hand +slowly</i>.] Upon my word, but you might knock me over.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Miss has grown into a +very superb young lady, Thomas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Still looking at +her</i>.] That may be so, yet ’twasn’t as such +I had figured she in the eye of my mind, like. [<i>There is +a moment’s silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. George, my boy, you +and sister Clara used to be up to rare games one with +t’other once on a time. [<i>Turning to</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span>.] There, my wench, I count +you’ve not forgotten Georgie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I’m afeared +I’ve not much of a memory.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Shake hands, my maid, +and very like as the memory will come back to roost same as the +fowls do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Bowing +coldly</i>.] Good afternoon, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Aside to +Luke</i>.] Now that’s what I call a bit of stylish +breeding.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>has made no answer +to</i> <span class="smcap">Joan’s</span> <i>bow</i>. +<i>He quietly ignores it</i>, <i>and takes up his pail of +water</i>. <i>As he does so he catches sight of</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span>, <i>who has been watching the whole +scene from the corner where she is partly concealed</i>. +<i>He looks at her for one moment</i>, <i>and then sets the +bucket down again</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Why, George—I +guess as it’s took you as it took me, us didn’t think +how ’twould appear when Miss Clara was growed up.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. +[<i>Quietly</i>.] No, us did not, master.</p> +<p>[<i>He carries his pail into the back kitchen as</i> <span +class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>and the children come in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. What’s all this +to-do in my kitchen, I should like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Us did but come up +for to—to give a handshake to sister Clara, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Well, now you can go +off back to work again. And you—[<i>turning to</i> +<span class="smcap">Joan</span>]—now that you’ve +finished curling of your hair and dressing of yourself up, you +can go and sit down in the best parlour along with your fancy +gentlemen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Offering his arm +to</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span>.] It will be my +sweet pleasure to conduct Missy to the parlour.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>offers his arm on the +other side</i>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span> +<i>moves off with both the young men</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>As she +goes</i>.] Indeed, I shall be glad to rest on a comfortable +couch. I’m dead tired of the country air already.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>Calling after +her</i>.] You’ll not go off to sleep afore the +chicken and sparrow grass is ate, will you, Aunt?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Miles</span>, <span +class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>having gone out</i>, <span +class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>begins to bang the chairs back in +their places and to arrange the room</i>, <i>watched by the two +children</i>. <span class="smcap">Clara</span>, <i>who has +remained half hidden by the door</i>, <i>now goes quietly +upstairs</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. +[<i>Calling</i>.] Here, George, Mag.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>comes in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Well, George, +’tisn’t much worse nor I expected.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. I don’t like +Aunt Clara.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. I hates her very +much.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. +[<i>Slowly</i>.] And I don’t seem to fancy her +neither.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h3>ACT III.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>Two days have passed by</i>.</p> +<p><i>It is morning</i>. <span class="smcap">Clara</span>, +<i>wearing an apron and a muslin cap on her head</i>, <i>sits by +the kitchen table mending a lace handkerchief</i>. <span +class="smcap">Maggie</span>, <i>who is dusting the plates on the +dressers</i>, <i>pauses to watch her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. I’d sooner +sweep the cow sheds out and that I would, nor have to set at such +a niggly piece of sewing work as you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I cannot do it +quickly, it is so fine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. I count ’tis +very nigh as bad as the treadmills, serving a young miss such as +yourn be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. What makes you say +that, Maggie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. Missis be very high +in her ways and powerful sharp in the tongue, but I declare as +your young lady will be worser nor missis when she do come to +that age.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Why do you think this, +Mag?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. O she do look at any +one as though they was lower nor the very worms in the +ground. And her speaks as though each word did cost she +more nor a shilling to bring it out. And see how +destructive she be with her fine clothing. A laced +petticoat tore to ribbons last night, and to-day yon +handkerchief.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. These things are soon +mended.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>continues to dust for a +few moments</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. The day you comed +here, ’twas a bit of ribbon as you did have around of your +hair.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>After a +moment’s hesitation</i>.] I put it on to keep my hair +neat on the journeying.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. [<i>Coming +nearer</i>.] I count as you’ve not missed it, have +you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Indeed I have, and I +think I must have lost it in the hayfield.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. ’Tain’t +lost.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Where is it then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. Look here, I could +tell you, but I shan’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. If you have found it, +Maggie, you may keep it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. ’Twould be a +fine thing to be a grand serving maid as you be, and to give away +ribbons, so ’twould.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>takes no notice of her +and goes on sewing</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. [<i>More +insistently</i>.] ’Twasn’t me as found the +ribbon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Who was it then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. I daresay you’d +like for to know, but I’m not going to say nothing more +about it.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>leans against the table +watching</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>as she +sews</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>with both the children +now come in</i>. <span class="smcap">Emily</span> +<i>carries a basket of potatoes</i>, <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>a large bowl</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Setting down the +basket</i>.] Maggie, you idle, bad girl, whatever are you +doing here when master expects you down in the meadow to help +with the raking?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. I be just a-going off +yonder, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I’d thank other +folk not to bring dressed up fine young serving minxes down +here—you was bad enough afore, Maggie, but you’ll be +a hundred times worser now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. I’ll be off and +help master. I’ve been and put the meat on to boil as +you said, missis.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>goes off</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>continues to sew</i>, +<i>quietly</i>. <span class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>has +put her bowl down on the table</i>, <i>and now comes to her +side</i>. <span class="smcap">Robin</span> <i>also comes +close to her</i>. <span class="smcap">Emily</span> +<i>flings herself into a chair for a moment and contemptuously +watches them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. We don’t care +much about our new aunt, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Dad said as how Aunt +would be sure to bring us sommat good from London town in them +great boxes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. And Aunt has been +here two days and more, and she hasn’t brought us +nothing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Your fine aunt have +been too much took up with her fancy gentlemen to think of what +would be suitable behaviour towards you children.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Will Aunt Clara get +married soon?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. ’Tis to be hoped +as she will be. Such a set out in the house I have never +seen afore in all my days. Young women as is hale and +hearty having their victuals took up to their rooms and a-lying +in bed till ’tis noon or later.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. ’Tis only one +of them as lies in bed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span>.] Do you think Aunt has got +sommat for us upstairs, Joan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Rising and putting +down her work</i>.] I know she has, Robin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Don’t let me +catch you speaking to Master Spring as though you and he was of +the same station, young person.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Master Robin, and Miss +Jessie, I will go upstairs and fetch the gifts that your aunt has +brought for you.</p> +<p>[<i>She goes leisurely towards the staircase door</i>, +<i>smiling at the children</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Ah, and you may tell +your young madam that ’tis high time as she was out of bed +and abroad. Hear that? [<span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>goes out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. I like her. She +speaks so gentle. Not like Aunt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. She’s a stuck up +sort of fine lady herself like. Look at the hands of her, +’tis not a day’s hard work as they have done in her +life, I’ll warrant.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. What will she bring us +from out of the great boxes, do you think?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Sommat what you +don’t need, I warrant. ’Tis always so. +When folks take it into their heads to give you aught, ’tis +very nigh always sommat which you could do better without.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>gets up and begins +settling the pots on the fire</i>, <i>and fetching a jug of cold +water from the back kitchen and a knife which she lays on the +table</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>enters carrying some +parcels</i>. <i>She brings them to the table</i>. +<i>Both the children run to her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Holding out a long +parcel to</i> <span class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>and speaking to +the children</i>.] The first is for your mother, +children.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>With an angry +exclamation</i>.] Now, you mark my words, ’twill be +sommat as I shall want to fling over the hedge for all the use +’twill be.</p> +<p>[<i>She comes near</i>, <i>opens the parcel and perceives it +to be a length of rich black silk</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. My mistress thought it +might be suitable.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Suitable? +I’ll suitable her. When shall my two hands find time +to sew me a gown out of it, I’d like to know? And if +’twas sewn, when would my limbs find time to sit down +within of it? [<i>Flinging it down on the table</i>.] +Suitable? You can tell your mistress from me as she can +keep her gifts to herself if she can’t do better nor +this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Stroking the +silk</i>.] O Mother, the feel of it be softer nor a +dove’s feather.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>Feeling it +too</i>.] ’Tis better nor the new kittens’ +fur.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Let us see if your +aunt have done more handsomely towards you children.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I am afraid not. +These coral beads are for Miss Jessie, with her aunt’s dear +love. And this book of pictures is for Master Robin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Seizing the beads +with delight</i>.] I love a string of beads. +[<i>Putting them on</i>.] How do they look on me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Off with them this +moment. I’ll learn her to give strings of rubbish to +my child.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Beginning to +cry</i>.] O do let me wear it just a little while, just +till dinner, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Have done with that +noise. Off with it at once, do you hear.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Taking the +necklace off</i>.] I love the feel of it—might I keep +it in my hand then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Seizing +it</i>.] ’Twill be put by with the silk dress. +So there. ’Tis not a suitable thing for a little girl +like you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>Looking up from +the pages of his book</i>.] No one shan’t take my +book from me. There be pictures of great horses and sheep +and cows in it—and no one shan’t hide it from me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Putting the silk +dress and necklace on another table</i>.] Next time your +aunt wants to throw her money into the gutter I hope as +she’ll ask me to come and see her a-doing of it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Coming up to</i> +<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>very tearfully</i>.] +And was there naught for Dad in the great box?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Perhaps there may +be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. And did Aunt Clara +bring naught for Georgie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I don’t +know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Poor Georgie. +He never has nothing gived him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. And Mother puts the +worst of the bits on his plate at dinner.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. +[<i>Sharply</i>.] Look you here, young woman. Suppose +you was to take and do something useful with that idle pair of +hands as you’ve got.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Yes, mistress, I +should like to help you in something.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Us knows what fine +promises lead to.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. But I mean it. +Do let me help a little.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. See them taters?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Yes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Take and peel and wash +them and get them ready against when I wants to cook them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>A little +doubtfully</i>.] Yes—I’ll—I’ll +try—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Ah, ’tis just as +I thought. You’re one of them who would stir the fire +with a silver spoon rather nor black their hands with the +poker.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. +[<i>Eagerly</i>.] No, no—it isn’t that. +I’ll gladly do them. Come, Miss Jessie, you will shew +me if I do them wrongly, won’t you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. O yes, I’ll +help you because I like you, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. I’ll help too, +when I have finished looking at my book.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>goes out</i>. <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>sits down by the table and takes up +a potato and the knife and slowly and awkwardly sets to +work</i>. <span class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>stands by +her watching</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. You mustn’t +take no account of Mother when she speaks so sharp. +’Tis only her way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Could you come and be +our serving maid when Maggie’s sent off?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. O I should be too slow +and awkward at the work, I think.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Yes, you don’t +do them taters very nice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. That don’t +matter, I like you, and you can tell me fine things about other +parts.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Georgie can tell of +fine things too. See, there he comes with the vegetables +from the garden.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>comes in with a large +basket of vegetables</i>, <i>which he sets down in the back +kitchen</i>. <i>Then he stands at the door</i>, <i>silently +watching the group near the table</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Come here, Georgie, +and let Joan hear some of the tales out of what you do sing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. What would mistress +say if she was to catch me at my songs this time of day?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Mother’s gone +upstairs, she won’t know nothing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Come you here, George, +and look at my fine book what Aunt have brought me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Slowly +approaching the table</i>.] That be a brave, fine book of +pictures, Master Robin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>Holding up the +open book</i>.] I don’t fancy Aunt Clara much, but I +likes her better nor I did because of this book.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George’s</span> <i>eyes wander from +the book to</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>as she bends +over her work</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Joan doesn’t +know how to do them very nicely, does she George!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Tis the first +time you’ve been set down to such work, may be, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. You mustn’t say +“mistress” to Joan, you know. Why, Mother would +be ever so angry if she was to hear you. Joan’s only +a servant.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Looking +up</i>.] Like you, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. +[<i>Steadily</i>.] What I was saying is—’Tis +the first time as you have been set afore a bowl of taters like +this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. You are right, +George. It is the first time since—since I was quite +a little child. And I think I’m very clumsy at my +work.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. No one could work +with them laces a-falling down all over their fingers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. You should turn back +your sleeves for kitchen work, Joan, same as Maggie does.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Yes, you should turn +back your sleeves, Miss Joan.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>puts aside the knife and +basket</i>, <i>turns back her sleeves</i>, <i>and then resumes +her work</i>. <span class="smcap">George’s</span> +<i>eyes are rivetted on her hands and arms for a +moment</i>. <i>Then he turns as though to go away</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Don’t go away, +Georgie. Come and tell us how you like Aunt Clara now that +she’s growed into such a grand lady.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Coming back to +the table</i>.] I don’t like nothing about her, Miss +Jessie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Is Aunt very much +changed from when she did use to ride the big horses to the +trough, Georgie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. And from the time when +th’ old gander did take a big piece right out of her arm, +Georgie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>His eyes on</i> +<span class="smcap">Clara’s</span> <i>bent head</i>.] +I count her be wonderful changed, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. So that you would +scarce know her?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. So that I should +scarce know she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. She have brought +Mother a silken gown and me a string of coral beads. But +naught for you, Georgie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I reckon as Miss +Clara have not kept me in her remembrance like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>With sudden +earnestness</i>.] O that she has, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. She didn’t seem +to know him by her looks.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Looks often speak but +poorly for the heart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>Who has been +watching</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span>.] See there, +Joan. You’ve been and cut that big tater right in +half. Mother will be cross.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. O dear, I am +thoughtless. One cannot work and talk at the same time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Taking basket and +knife from her and seating himself on the edge of the +table</i>.] Here,—give them all to me. I +understand such work, and ’tis clear that you do not. +I’ll finish them off in a few minutes, and mistress will +never be the wiser.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. O thank you, George, +but am I to go idle?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. You can take up with +that there white sewing if you have a mind. ’Tis more +suited to your hands nor this rough job.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>puts down her sleeves and +takes up her needlework</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Sing us a song, +George, whilst you do the taters.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. No, Miss +Jessie. My mood is not a singing mood this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. You ask him, +Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Will not you sing one +little verse, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Nay—strangers +from London town would have no liking for the songs we sing down +here among the fields.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. There was a song I +once heard in the country that pleased me very well.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. What was it +called?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I cannot remember the +name—but there was something of bushes and of briars in +it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. I know which that +is. ’Tis a pretty song. Sing it, Georgie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Nay—sing it +yourself, Miss Jessie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. ’Tis like this +at the beginning.—[<i>she sings or repeats</i>]—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Through bushes and through briars<br /> +I lately took my way,<br /> +All for to hear the small birds sing<br /> +And the lambs to skip and play.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. That is the song I was +thinking of, Jessie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Can you go on with +it, Miss Jessie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. I can’t say any +more.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Gently singing or +speaking</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">I overheard my own true love,<br /> +Her voice it was so clear.<br /> +“Long time I have been waiting for<br /> +The coming of my dear.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Heaving a +sigh</i>.] That’s it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Go on, Joan, I do +like the sound of it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Shall I go on with the +song, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. As you please.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Sometimes I am uneasy<br /> +And troubled in my mind,<br /> +Sometimes I think I’ll go to my love<br /> +And tell to him my mind.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“And if I would go to my love<br /> +My love he will say nay<br /> +If I show to him my boldness<br /> +He’ll ne’er love me again.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. When her love was hid +a-hind of the bushes and did hear her a-singing so pitiful, what +did he do then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I don’t know, +Jessie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. I reckon as he did +come out to show her as he knowed all what she did keep in her +mind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Very likely the briars +were so thick between them, Jess, that he never got to the other +side for her to tell him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Yes, that’s how +’twas, I count.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Running up to</i> +<span class="smcap">Robin</span>.] I’m going to look +at your book along of you, Robin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. But I’m the one +to turn the leaves, remember. [<i>The children sit side by +side looking at the picture book</i>. <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>sews</i>. <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>goes on with the +potatoes</i>. <i>As the last one is finished and tossed +into the water</i>, <i>he looks at</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>for the first time</i>. <i>A +long silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Miss Clara and me was +good friends once on a time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Tell me how it was +then, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I did used to put her +on the horse’s back, and we would go down to the water +trough in the evening time and—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. What else did you and +Miss Clara do together, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Us would walk in the +woods aside of one another—And I would lift she to a high +branch in a tree—and pretend for to leave her there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. And then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Her would call upon +me pitiful—and I would come back from where I was hid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. And did her crying +cease?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. She would take and +spring as though her was one of they little wild squirrels as do +dance about in the trees.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Where would she spring +to, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I would hold out my +two arms wide to her, and catch she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. And did she never +fall, whilst springing from the tree, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I never let she fall, +nor get hurted by naught so long as her was in the care of +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Slowly</i>, +<i>after a short pause</i>.] I do not think she can have +forgotten those days, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Getting up and +speaking harshly</i>.] They’re best forgot. Put +them away. There be briars and brambles and thorns and +sommat of all which do hurt the flesh of man atween that time and +this’n.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>turns her head away and +furtively presses her handkerchief to her eyes</i>. <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>looks gloomily on the +floor</i>. <span class="smcap">Emily</span> +<i>enters</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. George, what are you +at sitting at the kitchen table I’d like to know?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>gets hastily +off</i>. <i>Both children look up from their book</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Looking freezingly +at</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span>.] ’Tis plain +as a turnpike what you’ve been after, young person. +If you was my serving wench, ’tis neck and crop as you +should be thrown from the door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. What for, +mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. What for? You +have the impudence to ask what for? I’ll soon tell +you. For making a fool of George and setting your cap at +him and scandalising of my innocent children in their own +kitchen.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. This be going a bit +too far, missis. I’ll not have things said like +that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Then you may turn out +on to the roads where you were took from—a grizzling little +roadsters varmint. You do cost more’n what you eats +nor what we get of work from out of your body, you great +hulk.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Springing up +angrily</i>.] O I’ll not hear such things said. +I’ll not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Who asked you to +speak? Get you upstairs and pull your mistress out of +bed—and curl the ringlets of her hair and dust the flour on +to her face. ’Tis about all you be fit for.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Angrily going to +the stair door</i>.] Very well. ’Tis best that +I should go. I might say something you would not like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Advancing +towards</i> <span class="smcap">Emily</span>.] Look you +here, mistress. I’ve put up with it going on for +fifteen years. But sometimes ’tis almost more nor I +can bear. If ’twasn’t for Master Thomas +I’d have cleared out this long time ago.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Don’t flatter +yourself as Thomas needs you, my man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. We has always been +good friends, farmer and me. ’Tis not for what I gets +from he nor for what he do get out of I as we do hold +together. But ’tis this—as he and I do +understand one another.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. We’ll see what +master has to say when I tell him how you was found sitting on +the kitchen table and love-making with that saucy piece of London +trash.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I’m off. +I’ve no patience to listen any longer. You called me +roadster varmint. Well, let it be so. On the road I +was born and on the road I was picked from my dead mother’s +side, and I count as ’tis on the road as I shall breathe my +last. But for all that, I’ll not have road dirt flung +on me by no one. For, roadsters varmint though I be, there +be things which I do hold brighter nor silver and cleaner nor new +opened leaves, and I’ll not have defilement throwed upon +them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Seizing the arms +of</i> <span class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robin</span>.] The lad’s raving. +’Tis plain as he’s been getting at the cider. +Come you off with me to the haymaking, Robin and Jess.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. May I take my book +along of me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Flinging the book +down violently</i>.] I’ll book you! What +next?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Poor Georgie. +He was not courting Joan, mother. He was only doing the +taters for her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>As they go +out</i>.] The lazy good-for-nothing cat. I’ll +get her packed off from here afore another sun has set, see if I +don’t.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>is left alone in the +kitchen</i>. <i>When all sounds of</i> <span +class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>and the children have died +away</i>, <i>he sighs</i>. <i>Then</i>, <i>looking +furtively round the room</i>, <i>he draws a blue ribbon slowly +from his pocket</i>. <i>He spreads it out on one hand and +stands looking down on it</i>, <i>sadly and longingly</i>. +<i>Then he slowly raises it to his lips and kisses it</i>. +<i>Just as he is doing this</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> +<i>comes into the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Why, George, my +lad.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Confusedly +putting the ribbon back into his pocket</i>.] Yes, Master +Thomas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Looking meaningly +at</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>.] ’Tis a +pretty enough young maid, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. What did you say, +Master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. That one with the bit +of blue round the head of her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Blue?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Ah, George. I +was a young man myself once on a time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Yes, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. ’Twasn’t +a piece of blue ribbon as I did find one day, but ’twas a +blossom dropped from her gown.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Whose gown, +master? I’ll warrant ’twasn’t +missus’s.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Bless my soul, +no. No, no, George. ’Twasn’t the mistress +then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Ah, I count as it +could not have been she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. First love, +’tis best, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Ah, upon my word, +that ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. But my maid went and +got her married to another.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. More’s the +pity, Master Thomas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. +[<i>Sighing</i>.] Ah, I often thinks of how it might have +been—with her and me, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Had that one a soft +tongue to her mouth, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Soft and sweet as the +field lark, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Then that had been +the one for you to have wed, Master Thomas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Ah, George, +don’t you never run into the trap, no matter whether +’tis baited with the choicest thing you ever did dream +on. Once in, never out. There ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. No one would trouble +to set a snare for me, master. I baint worth trapping.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. You be a brave, fine +country lad, George, what a pretty baggage from London town might +give a year of her life to catch, so be it her had the +fortune.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. No, no, Master +Thomas. Nothing of that. There baint nothing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. There be a piece of +blue ribbon, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. They be coming down +and into the room now, master. [<i>Steps are heard in the +staircase</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. We’ll off to +the meadow then, George.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>go out</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>dressed as a lady of +fashion</i>, <i>and followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span>, <i>comes into the kitchen</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Now, Joan, if I were +you, I should go out into the garden, and let the gentlemen find +you in the arbour. Your ways are more easy and natural when +you are in the air.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O I’m very nigh +dead with fright when I’m within doors. ’Tis so +hard to move about without knocking myself against sommat. +But at table ’tis worst of all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. You’ve stopped +up in your room two breakfasts with the headache, and yesterday +we took our dinner to the wood.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. But to-night +’twill be something cruel, for Farmer Thomas have asked +them both to supper again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Luke Jenner and the +other man?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I beg you to practise +me in my ways, a little, afore the time, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. That I will. We +will find out what is to be upon the table, and then I will shew +you how it is to be eaten.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. And other things as +well as eating. When I be sitting in the parlour, Miss +Clara, and Hooper, he comes up and asks my pleasure, what have I +got to say to him?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. O, I shouldn’t +trouble about that. I’d open my fan and take no +notice if I were you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I do feel so awkward +like in speech with Farmer Thomas, mistress. And with the +children, too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Come, you must take +heart and throw yourself into the acting. Try to be as a +sister would with Thomas. Be lively, and kind in your way +with the children.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I tries to be like old +Madam Lovel was, when I talks with them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. That cross, rough mode +of hers sits badly on any one young, Joan. Be more of +yourself, but make little changes in your manner here and +there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>With a heavy +sigh</i>.] ’Tis the here and the there as I finds it +so hard to manage.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Running in +breathlessly</i>.] A letter, a letter for Aunt Clara. +[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>involuntarily puts out her +hand</i>.] No, Joan. I was to give it to Aunt Clara +herself. I’ve run all the way.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>slowly takes the +letter</i>, <i>looking confused</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Will you read it now, +Aunt?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Run away, little girl, +I don’t want no children worriting round me now. +[<i>Suddenly recollecting herself and forcing herself to speak +brightly</i>.] I mean—no, my dear little girl, +I’d rather wait to read it till I’m by myself; but +thank you very kindly all the same, my pet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. O, but I should like +to hear the letter read, so much.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Never mind. Run +along back to mother, there’s a sweet little maid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. I’d sooner stop +with you now, you look so much kinder, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">Jessie’s</span> <i>hand and leading her to +the door</i>.] Now, Miss Jessie, your aunt must read her +letter in quiet, but if you will come back presently I will have +a game with you outside.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>As she runs +off</i>.] Mother won’t let me talk with you any more, +alone. She says as you’ve made a fool of Georgie and +you’ll do the same by us all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>When</i> <span +class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>has run off</i>.] There now, +how did I do that, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Better, much +better.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. ’Tis the feeling +of one thing and the speaking of another, with you ladies and +gentlemen. So it appears to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>After a +moment’s thought</i>.] No. It is not quite like +that. But ’tis, perhaps, the dressing up of an ugly +feeling in better garments.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Handing the letter +to</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span>.] There, mistress, +’tis yours, not mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Glancing at +it</i>.] Lord Lovel’s writing. [<span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>opens the letter and reads it +through</i>.] He will not wait longer for my answer. +And he is coming here as fast as horses can bring him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O, mistress, whatever +shall we do?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. We had better own to +everything at once. It will save trouble in the end.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Own to everything now, +and lose all just as my hand was closing upon it, like!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Poor Joan, it will not +make any difference in the end, if the man loves you truly.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Be kind and patient +just to the evening, mistress. Hooper is coming up to see +me now. I’d bring him to offer his self, if I was but +left quiet along of him for a ten minutes or so.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. And then, Joan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. And then, when was all +fixed up comfortable between us, mistress, maybe as you could +break it gently to him so as he wouldn’t think no worse of +me.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>gets up and goes to the +window</i>, <i>where she looks out for a few minutes in +silence</i>. <span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>cries +softly meanwhile</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Turning +towards</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span>.] As you will, +Joan. Very likely ’twill be to-morrow morning before +my lord reaches this place.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O bless you for your +goodness, mistress. And I do pray as all may go as well +with you as ’tis with me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Sadly</i>.] +That is not likely, Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. What is it stands in +the way, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Briars, Joan. +Thorns of pride, and many another sharp and hurting thing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Then take you my +counsel, mistress, and have his lordship when he do offer +next.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I’ll think of +what you say, Joan. There comes a moment when the heart is +tired of being spurned, and it would fain get into shelter. +[<i>A slight pause</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Looking through the +window</i>.] Look up quickly, mistress. There’s +Hooper.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Getting +up</i>.] Then I’ll run away. May all be well +with you, dear Joan. [<span class="smcap">Clara</span> +<i>goes out</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>seats herself in a +high-backed chair and opens her fan</i>. <span +class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>enters</i>, <i>carrying a small +box</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Already astir, Miss +Clara. ’Tis early hours to be sure for one of our +London beauties.</p> +<p>[<i>He advances towards her</i>, <i>and she stretches out her +hand without rising</i>. <i>He takes it +ceremoniously</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. You may sit down, if +you like, Mister Hooper.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>places a chair in front +of</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>and sits down on +it</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Untying the +parcel</i>.] I’ve been so bold as to bring you a +little keepsake from my place in town, Missy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. How kind you are, +Mister Miles.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. You’ll be able +to fancy yourself in Bond Street when you see it, Miss Clara.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Now, you do excite me, +Mister Hooper.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Opening the box +and taking out a handsome spray of bright artificial +flowers</i>.] There, what do you say to that, Miss? +And we can do you the same in all the leading tints.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O, ’tis wonderful +modish. I declare I never did see anything to beat it up in +town.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Now I thought as +much. I flatter myself that we can hold our own with the +best of them in Painswick High Street.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I seem to smell the +very scent of the blossoms, Mister Hooper.</p> +<p>[<i>She puts out her hand shyly and takes the spray from</i> +<span class="smcap">Miles</span>, <i>pretending to smell +it</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Well—and +what’s the next pleasure, Madam?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>drops the spray and begins +to fan herself violently</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Very +gently</i>.] What’s Missy’s next pleasure?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. I’m sure I +don’t know, Mr. Miles.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Miles Hooper would +like Missy to ask for all that is his.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O, Mister Hooper, how +kind you are.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Ladies never like the +sound of business, so we’ll set that aside for a moment and +discuss the music of the heart in place of it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Ah, that’s a +thing I do well understand, Mister Hooper.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. I loved you from the +first, Miss. There’s the true, high born lady for +you, says I to myself. There’s beauty and style, +elegance and refinement.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Now, did you really +think all that, Mister Hooper?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Do not keep me in +suspense, Miss Clara.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. What about, sir?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. The answer to my +question, Missy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. And what was that, I +wonder?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. I want my pretty Miss +to take the name of Hooper. Will she oblige her Miles?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O that I will. +With all my heart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Standing +up</i>.] I would not spoil this moment, but by and bye my +sweet Missy shall tell me all the particulars of her income, and +such trifles.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. +[<i>Agitatedly</i>.] O let us not destroy to-day by +thoughts of anything but our dear affection one for +t’other.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Why, my pretty town +Miss is already becoming countrified in her speech.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. ’Tis from hearing +all the family. But, dear Miles, promise there shan’t +be nothing but—but love talk between you and me this +day. I could not bear it if we was to speak of, of other +things, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Getting up and +walking about the room</i>.] As you will—as you +will. Anything to oblige a lady.</p> +<p>[<i>He stops before the table</i>, <i>on which is laid</i> +<span class="smcap">Emily’s</span> <i>silk dress</i>, +<i>and begins to finger it</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. What’s that +you’re looking at?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Ten or fifteen +shillings the yard, and not a penny under, I’ll be +bound.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O do come and talk to +me again and leave off messing with the old silk.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. No, no, Missy, +I’m a man of business habits, and ’tis my duty to go +straight off to the meadow and seek out brother Thomas. He +and I have got to talk things over a bit, you know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Off so soon! O +you have saddened me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Nay, what is it to +lose a few minutes of sweet company, when life is in front of us, +Miss Clara?</p> +<p>[<i>He raises her hand</i>, <i>kisses it</i>, <i>and leaves +her</i>. <i>As he goes out by the door</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O, Mistress—stop +him going down to Farmer Thomas at the meadow!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Why, Joan, what has +happened?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. All has happened. +But stop him going to the farmer to talk about the—the +wedding and the money.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. The money?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. The income which he +thinks I have.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I’ll run, but +all this time I’ve been keeping Master Luke Jenner quiet in +the parlour.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O what does he want +now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Much the same as the +other one wanted.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Must I see him?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Yes, indeed he will +wait no longer for his answer. He’s at boiling point +already.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Then send him in. +But do you run quickly, Miss Clara, and keep Miles Hooper from +the farmer.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I’ll run my +best, never fear. [<i>She goes out</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Luke Jenner</span> <i>comes in</i>, <i>a +bunch of homely flowers in his hand</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Seating +herself</i>.] You are early this morning, Mister +Jenner.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Sitting opposite to +her</i>.] I have that to say which would not bide till +sunset, Miss Clara.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Indeed, Mister +Jenner. I wonder what that can be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. ’Tis just like +this, Miss Clara. The day I first heard as you was coming +down here—“I could do with a rich wife if so be as I +could win her,” I did tell myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O, Mister Jenner, now +did you really?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. But when I met you in +the wood—saw you sitting there, so still and yet so bright, +so fine and yet so homely. “That’s the maid for +me,” I says to myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. +[<i>Tearfully</i>.] O, Mister Jenner!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. And if it had been +beggar’s rags upon her in the place of satin, I’d +have said the same.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Very much +stirred</i>.] O, Mister Jenner, and did you really think +like that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. If all the gold that do +lie atween me and you was sunk in the deep ocean, ’twould +be the best as could happen. There!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Faintly</i>.] +O, Mister Jenner, why?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Because, very like +’twould shew to you as ’tis yourself I’m after +and not the fortune what you’ve got.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. Mister Jenner, +I’m mighty sorry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Don’t say +I’m come too late, Miss Clara.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. You are. Mister +Hooper was before you. And now, ’tis he and I who are +like to be wed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. I might have known I +had no chance.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Rising and trying +to hide her emotion</i>.] I wouldn’t have had it +happen so for the world, Mr. Jenner.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Laying his bunch of +flowers on the table</i>, <i>his head bent</i>, <i>and his eyes +on the ground</i>.] ’Twas none of your doing, Miss +Clara. You’ve naught to blame yourself for. +’Tis not your fault as you’re made so—so +beautiful, and yet so homely.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>looks at him irresolutely +for a moment and then precipitately leaves the room</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>folds his arms on the +table and rests his head on them in an attitude of deepest +despondency</i>. <i>After a few moments</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. O, Mister Jenner, what +has happened to you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Raising his head +and pointing to the window</i>.] There she goes, through +the garden with her lover.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I wish that you were +in his place.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. +[<i>Bitterly</i>.] I’ve no house with golden rails to +offer her. Nor any horse and chaise.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. But you carry a heart +within you that is full of true love.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. What use is the love +which be fastened up in a man’s heart and can spend itself +on naught, I’d like to know. [<i>He rises as though +to go and take up the bunch of flowers which has been lying on +the table</i>. <i>Brokenly</i>.] I brought them for +her. But I count as he’ll have given her something +better nor these.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>takes the flowers gently +from his hand</i>, <i>and as she does so</i>, <span +class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. What now if you +please! First with George and then with Luke. +’Twould be Thomas next if he wasn’t an old sheep of a +man as wouldn’t know if an eye was cast on him or no. +But I’ll soon put a stop to all this. Shame on you, +Luke Jenner. And you, you fine piece of London vanity, I +wants my kitchen to myself, do you hear, so off with you +upstairs.</p> +<p>[<i>She begins to move violently about the kitchen as the +curtain falls</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT IV.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>The kitchen is decorated with bunches of flowers</i>. +<i>A long table is spread with silver</i>, <i>china and +food</i>. <span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>is setting +mugs to each place</i>. <span class="smcap">Maggie</span> +<i>comes in from the back kitchen with a large dish of +salad</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. When folks do come +down to the countryside they likes to enjoy themselves among the +vegetables.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Placing the last +mug</i>.] There—Now all is ready for them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. [<i>Bending over a +place at the end of the table</i>.] Come you and look at +this great old bumble-dore, Joan, what have flyed in through the +window.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Goes to</i> <span +class="smcap">Maggie’s</span> <i>side and bends down over +the table</i>.] O what a beautiful thing. Look at the +gold on him, and his legs are like feathers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. [<i>Taking the bee +carefully up in a duster and letting it fly through the +window</i>.] The sign of a stranger, so they do say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. A stranger, +Maggie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. You mind my words, +’tis a stranger as’ll sit where yon was stuck, afore +the eating be finished.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I don’t believe +in such signs, myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. I never knowed it not +come true.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>comes in</i>. +<i>He is wearing his best clothes and looks pleased</i>, <i>yet +nervous</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Well, maids. +Upon my word ’tis a spread. Never saw so many +different vituals brought together all at a time afore in this +house.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. ’Tis in honour +of Miss Clara’s going to be married like, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. So ’tis, so +’tis. Well—A single rose upon the bush. +Bound to be plucked, you know. Couldn’t be left to +fade in the sun, eh, girls?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Where shall Maggie and +me stop whilst the supper is going on, master? Mistress has +not told us yet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. +[<i>Nervously</i>.] Mistress haven’t told +you—haven’t she? Well—well—at such +a time we must all—all rejoice one with t’other, +like. No difference made t’wixt master and man. +Nor t’wixt maid and missus. Down at the far end of +the table you can sit yourselves, my wenches. Up against +George—How’s that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. That will do very well +for us, Master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. I don’t expect +as missus will let we bide there long.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Look here, my wench, +I be master in my own house, and at the asking in marriage of my +only sister like, ’tis me as shall say what shall sit down +with who. And there’s an end of it. +That’s all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Maggie</span>. I hear them a coming +in, master.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Emily</span>, <i>holding the hands of</i> +<span class="smcap">Jessie</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robin</span>, <i>comes into the room</i>. +<i>Her eyes fall on</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>who +is standing between</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Maggie</span>, <i>looking suddenly +sheepish and nervous</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>In a voice of +suppressed anger</i>.] Thomas! O, if I catch any more of +these goings on in my kitchen.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>very elegantly dressed +and hanging on the arm of</i> <span class="smcap">Miles +Hooper</span>, <i>follows</i> <span class="smcap">Emily</span> +<i>into the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I’ll not have +the food kept back any longer for Luke Jenner. If folk +can’t come to the time when they’re asked, they baint +worth waiting for, so sit you down, all of you.</p> +<p>[<i>She sits down at the head of the table</i>, <i>a child on +either side of her</i>. <span class="smcap">Joan</span> +<i>languidly sinks into a chair and</i> <span +class="smcap">Miles</span> <i>puts himself at her +right</i>. <i>A place at her left remains empty</i>. +<span class="smcap">Thomas</span> <i>sits opposite</i>. +<i>Three places at the end of the table are left +vacant</i>. <i>As they sit down</i>, <span +class="smcap">George</span>, <i>wearing a new smock and neck +handkerchief</i>, <i>comes in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Beginning to help +a dish</i>.] You need not think you’re to be helped +first, Clara, for all that the party is given for you, +like. The poor little children have been kept waiting a sad +time for their supper, first because you was such a while a +having your head curled and puffed out, and then ’twas Luke +Jenner as didn’t come.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>sits down at a place at +the end of the table</i>. <span class="smcap">George</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>still remain +standing</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Perceiving</i> +<span class="smcap">Clara’s</span> <i>movement</i>.] +Well, I never did see anything so forward. Who told you to +sit yourself down along of your betters, if you please, madam +serving maid?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>comes involuntarily +forward and stands behind</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara’s</span> <i>chair</i>. <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>does not move</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Get you out of that +there place this instant, do you hear? [<i>Turning to</i> <span +class="smcap">Miles</span>.] To see the way the young +person acts one might think as she fancied herself as something +uncommon rare and high. But you’ll not take any fool +in, not you, for all that you like to play the fine lady. +Us can see through your game very clear, can’t us, Mr. +Hooper?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. O certainly, to be +sure, Missis Spring. No one who has the privilege of being +acquainted with a real lady of quality could be mistook by any of +the games played by this young person.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>looks him gravely in the +face without moving</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Get up, do you hear, +and help Maggie pass the dishes!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. +[<i>Nervously</i>.] Nay, nay, ’twas my doing, +Emily. I did tell the wenches as they might sit +their-selves along of we, just for th’ occasion like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. And who are you, if +you please, giving orders and muddling about like a lord in my +kitchen?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. +[<i>Faintly</i>.] Come, Emily, I’m the master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. And I, the +mistress. Hear that, you piece of London impudence?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Comes +forward</i>.] Master Luke be coming up the garden, +mistress.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Luke Jenner</span> <i>enters</i>. +<i>He goes straight up to</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span> +<i>and holds out his hand to her</i>, <i>and then to</i> <span +class="smcap">Miles</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. I do wish you happiness +with all my heart, Miss Clara. Miles, my lad, ’tis +rare—rare pleased as I be to shake your hand this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Come, come, Luke +Jenner, you’ve been and kept us waiting more nor half an +hour. Can’t you sit yourself down and give other folk +a chance of eating their victuals quiet? There’s +naught to make all this giddle-gaddle about as I can see.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Sitting down in the +empty place by</i> <span class="smcap">Joan’s</span> +<i>side</i>.] Beg pardon, mistress, I know I’m a bit +late. But the victuals as are waited for do have a better +flavour to them nor those which be ate straight from the pot +like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. That’s true +’tis. And ’tis hunger as do make the best +sauce.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>quietly seat themselves on either +side of</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span>. <span +class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>is too busy dispensing the food to +take any notice</i>. <span class="smcap">George</span> +<i>hands plates and dishes to</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span>, <i>and silently cares for her comfort +throughout the meal</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Well, Emily; well, +Luke. I didn’t think to lose my little sister afore +she’d stopped a three days in the place. That I did +not. But I don’t grudge her to a fine prospering +young man like friend Hooper, no, I don’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. No one called upon you +for a speech, Thomas. See if you can’t make yourself +of some use in passing the green stuff. [<i>Turning to</i> +<span class="smcap">Luke</span>.] We have two serving maids +and a man, Mister Jenner, but they’re to be allowed to act +the quality to-day, so we’ve got to wait upon +ourselves.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. A man is never so well +served as by his own two hands, mistress. That’s my +saying at home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. And a good one too, +Luke, my boy, for most folk, but with me ’tis +otherwise. I’ve got another pair of hands in the +place as do for me as well, nor better than my own.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Yes, Thomas, I often +wonders where you’d be without mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. I wasn’t +thinking of yourn, Emily. ’Tis George’s hands +as I was speaking of.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. +[<i>Contemptuously</i>.] George! You’ll all +find out your mistake one day, Thomas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan</span>, <i>who has been nervously handling her +knife and fork and watching</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara’s</span> <i>movements +furtively</i>.] My sweet Miss is not shewing any +appetite.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. +I’m—I’m not used to country fare.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. O, I hear you, +Clara. Thomas, this is very fine. Clara can’t +feed ’cause she’s not used to country fare! +What next, I’d like to know!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. [<i>Who has been +watching</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span>.] Why does +Aunt sometimes put her knife in her mouth, Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. My good boy, +’tis plain you’ve never mixed among the quality or +you would know that each London season has its own new fashion of +acting. This summer ’tis the stylish thing to put on +a countryfied mode at table.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Joan don’t eat +like that, Mister Hooper.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Joan’s only a +maid servant, Miss Jessie. You should learn to distinguish +between such people and fine ladles like your aunt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Forcing herself to +be more animated</i>.] Give me some fruit, Miles—I +have no appetite to-day for heavy food. ’Tis far too +warm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. As for me, the only +food I require is the sweet honey of my Missy’s voice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Ah, ’tis a +grand thing to be a young man, Miles Hooper. There was a +day when such things did come handy to my tongue, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. +[<i>Sharply</i>.] I don’t seem to remember that day, +Thomas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Sheepishly</i>, +<i>his look falling</i>.] Ah—’twas +afore—afore our courting time, Emily.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. +[<i>Energetically</i>.] Prime weather for the hay, +farmer. I count as this dry will last until the whole of it +be carried. [<i>A knock is heard at the door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Now who’ll that +be? Did you see anyone a-coming up the path, Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Do you expect me to be +carving of the fowls and a-looking out of the window the same +time, Thomas?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. George, my lad, do +you open the door and see who ’tis.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>looks anxiously across the +table at</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span>. <i>Then she +drops her spoon and fork and takes up her fan</i>, <i>using it +violently whilst</i> <span class="smcap">George</span> <i>slowly +gets up and opens the door</i>. <span class="smcap">Lord +Lovel</span> <i>is seen standing on the threshold</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span>.] Kindly tell me, my man, is +this the farm they call Ox Lease?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Ah, that’s +right enough.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. I’m sorry +to break in upon a party like this, but I want to see Miss Clara +Spring if she is here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Standing +up</i>.] You’ve come at the very moment, +master. This be a giving in marriage supper. And +’tis Miss Clara, what’s only sister to me, as is to +be wed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. Impossible, my +good sir!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Ah, that’s +it. Miles Hooper, he’s the happy man. If you be +come by Painswick High Street you’ll have seen his name up +over the shop door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. Miss +Clara—Miles Hooper—No, I can’t believe it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Pointing +towards</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Miles</span>.] There they be—the both +of them. Turtle doves on the same branch. +You’re right welcome, master, to sit down along of we as +one of the family on this occasion.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. [<i>Looking +at</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>who has suddenly +dropped her fan and is leaning back with a look of supplication +towards</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span>.] I must have +come to the wrong place—that’s not the Miss Clara +Spring I know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Bending over</i> +<span class="smcap">Joan</span>.] My sweet Missy has no +acquaintance with this gentleman, I am sure.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span> <i>suddenly turns round +and perceives</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>seated +by</i> <span class="smcap">Maggie</span> <i>at the +table</i>. <i>He quickly goes towards her</i>, <i>holding +out his hand</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. Miss Clara. +Tell me what is going on. [<i>Looking at her cap and +apron</i>.] Why have you dressed yourself like this?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Come, come. +There seems to be some sort of a hitch here. The young +gentleman has very likely stopped a bit too long at the Spotted +Cow on his way up.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Very faintly</i>, +<i>looking at</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span>.] O do +you stand by me now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Lays her hand +on</i> <span class="smcap">Lord Lovel’s</span> +<i>arm</i>.] Come with me, my lord. I think I can +explain everything if you will only step outside with me. +Come—[<i>She leads him swiftly through the door which</i> +<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>shuts behind them</i>.]</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>leans back in her chair as +though she were going to faint</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Well, now—but +that’s a smartish wench, getting him out so quiet, +like. George, you’d best step after them to see as +the young man don’t annoy her in any way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. That young person can +take good care of herself. Sit you down, Thomas and George, +and get on with your eating, if you can.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. Why did he think Joan +was our aunt, mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. ’Cause he was in +that state when a man don’t know his right leg from his +left arm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Who has remained +standing</i>.] Look you here, Master Thomas—see here +mistress. ’Tis time as there was an end of this +cursed play acting, or whatever ’tis called.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Play acting there +never has been in my house, George, I’d like for you to +know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. O yes there have +been, mistress. And ’tis time it was finished. +[<i>Pointing to</i> <span class="smcap">Joan</span>.] You +just take and ask that young person what she do mean by tricking +herself out in Miss Clara’s gowns and what not, and by +having herself called by Miss Clara’s own name.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">Joan’s</span> <i>hand in his</i>.] My +sweet Miss must pay no attention to the common fellow. I +dare him to speak like that of my little lady bride.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. A jay bird in +peacock’s feathers, that’s what ’tis. And +she’s took you all in, the every one of you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. O George, isn’t +she really our aunt from London?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. No, that she baint, +Miss Jessie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Come, come, my +lad. I never knew you act so afore.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. ’Tis clear where +he have spent his time this afternoon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. Nay, nay, I never did +see George inside of the Spotted Cow in all the years I’ve +known of him. George baint made to that shape.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Then who is Aunt +Clara, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. She who be just gone +from out of the room, Master Robin, and none other.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Come, George, this +talk do sound so foolish.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I can’t help +that, master. Foolish deeds do call for foolish words, may +be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. My pretty Miss is +almost fainting, I declare. [<i>He pours out water for</i> +<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>and bends affectionately over +her</i>.] Put the drunken fellow outside and let’s +have an end of this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. +[<i>Advancing</i>.] Yes, us’ll have an end to it very +shortly. But I be going to put a straight question to the +maid first, and ’tis a straight answer as her’ll have +to give me in reply.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Not a word, not a +word. Miss is sadly upset by your rude manners.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Do you ask of the +young lady but one thing, Master Hooper, and then I’ll go +when you will.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. Well, my man, +what’s that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Do you get her to +speak the name as was given she at baptism, Mister Hooper.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. This is madness. +My pretty Miss shall not be teased by such a question. +Thomas, you’ll have to get this stupid fellow locked up, or +something.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. +[<i>Angrily</i>.] Her shall say it, if I stands here all +night.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>suddenly bends forward and +hides her face in her hands</i>, <i>her form shaken by violent +weeping</i>. <i>The door opens and</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>enters followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. <i>She has taken off her +cap and apron</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Raising her head +and stretching out her hands to</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span>.] O speak for me, +mistress. Speak for me and help.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. I am Clara, she is +Joan. Thomas, Emily, I pray you to forgive us both for +taking you in like this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Well, I never did +hear tell of such a thing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. I’m not going to +believe a word the young person says.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. She has told you +but the truth, my good friends.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. And who are you, to +put your tongue into the basin, I’d like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. This is the nephew of +my dear godmother. Lord Lovel is his name.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. If you think I’m +going to be took in with such nonsense, the more fool you, I +says.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. But all that Miss +Clara tells you is true, Missis Spring. She and her serving +maid, for certain reasons of their own, agreed to change parts +for a few days.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Turning to</i> +<span class="smcap">Joan</span>.] Is this really so, my +maid?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>bows her head</i>, <i>her +handkerchief still covering her face</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span>.] Who ever would have thought on +such a thing?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. ’Twas a foolish +enough thing, but no harm is done. Look up, Joan, and do +not cry so pitifully.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Looking up at</i> +<span class="smcap">Miles</span>.] You’ll never go +and change towards me now that we’re most as good as wed, +will you, Mister Hooper?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Rising and +speaking with cold deliberation</i>.] Ladies and gentlemen, +I have the honour to wish you all a very pleasant evening.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Come, come Miles, we +be all a bit turned in the head, it seems. But +things’ll settle back to their right places if you gives +them a chance. Sit you down and take a drink of sommat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Don’t be so +foolish, Thomas. As if a man what’s been stung by a +wasp would care to sit himself down on a hornet’s nest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. You are perfectly +right, madam. This is no place for me. I have been +sported with. My good name has been treated as a jest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O Mister Hooper, +’twas my doing, all of it, but I did it for the best, I +did.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. [<i>Going to the +door</i>.] Thank you, my good woman. Next time you +want to play a little prank like this, I beg that you will select +your partner with more care. The name of Hooper is not a +suitable one to toy with, let me tell you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Aren’t you going +to marry her then, Mister Hooper?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Miles</span>. I am not, Master +Robin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. You said as you could +tell a real lady by her ways, but you couldn’t very well, +could he, Mother?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Miles</span>, <i>covering his +mortification with sarcastic bows made to the right and left</i>, +<i>goes out</i>. <span class="smcap">Joan</span> <i>leans +back almost fainting in her chair</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Taking her +hand</i>.] This is the finest hearing in all the world for +me, Miss—Miss Joan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. O Mr. Jenner, how deep +you must despise me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. And that I’d +never do, though I’m blest if I know why you did it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. It was as much my +fault as hers, Mister Jenner. There were things that each +of us wanted, and that we thought we might get, by changing +places, one with the other.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span>.] Well, my maid, I’m +blessed if I do know what you was a hunting about for, dressed up +as a serving wench.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Turning a little +towards</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>.] I thought +to find something which was mine when I was a little child, but +which I lost.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. O Georgie do know how +to find things which is lost. ’Twas he as brought +back the yellow pullet when her had strayed off.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. Yes. And +’twas George as did find your blue hair ribbon Aunt Clara, +when it was dropped in the hayfield.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. I believe as Georgie +knowed which of them was our aunt all the time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. I believe it too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Why, George, you sly +dog, what put you on the scent, like?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Twas not one, +but many things. And if you wants a clear proof [<i>Turning +to</i> <span class="smcap">Clara</span>]—put back the laces +of your sleeve, Miss Clara.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. What for, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Whilst you was +a-doing of the taters, this morning, you did pull up your +sleeves. ’Twas then I held the proof. Not that +’twas needed for me, like.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>pushes up both her +sleeves</i>, <i>and holds out her arms towards</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Pointing to the +scar</i>.] There ’tis—there’s where +th’ old gander have left his mark.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Children</span>. [<i>Getting +up</i>.] Where, where! O do let us see!</p> +<p>[<i>They run round to where</i> <span +class="smcap">Clara</span> <i>stands and look eagerly at the mark +on her arm which she shews to them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. George, my lad, you +baint th’ only one as can play fox.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Don’t you be so +set up as to think as you can, Thomas. For a more foolish +figure of a goose never was cut. A man might tell when +’twas his own sister, if so be as he had his full senses +upon him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. Never you mind, +Emily. What I says to George is, he baint th’ only +fox. How now, my lad?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I don’t see +what you be driving at, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. [<i>Slyly</i>.] +What about that bit of blue ribbon, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Yes, Thomas. Ask +Georgie if he will give it back to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Stepping forward +till he is by</i> <span class="smcap">Clara’s</span> +<i>side</i>.] No, and that I will not do. ’Tis +little enough as I holds, but what little, I’ll keep +it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span>.] Those words are like a frail +bridge on which I can stand for a moment. Georgie, do you +remember the days when you used to lead me by the hand into the +deep parts of the wood, lifting me over the briars and the +brambles so that I should not be hurt by their thorns?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Hark you here, +Clara. This once I’ll speak. I never had but +one true love, and that was a little maid what would run through +the woods and over all the meadows, her hand in mine. I +learnt she the note of every bird. And when th’ +evening was come, us would watch together till th’ old +mother badger did get from out of her hole, and start hunting in +the long grasses.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">George’s</span> <i>hand</i>.] Then, +Georgie, there was no need for the disguise that I put upon +myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Do you think as the +moon can hide her light when there baint no cloud upon the sky, +Clara?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Clara</span>. Georgie, I went in +fear of what this gold and silver might raise up between you and +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. That’s all +finished and done with now, my maid. If I’d a hundred +sisters, George should have the pick of them, he should.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. Thank you. +Thomas. One of your sisters is about enough.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Luke</span>. [<i>Who has been +sitting with</i> <span class="smcap">Joan’s</span> <i>hand +in his</i>.] Hark you here, mistress. There’s +many a cloudy morning turns out a sunshiny day. Baint that +a true saying, Joan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Joan</span>. [<i>Looking up +radiantly</i>.] O that it is, dear Luke.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. Miss Clara, it +seems that there is nothing more to be said.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. And that’s the +most sensible thing as has been spoke this long while. +Thomas, your sister favours you in being a poor, grizzling sort +of a muddler. She might have took up with this young man, +who has a very respectable appearance.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Lovel</span>. [<i>Coming +forward to</i> <span class="smcap">George</span> <i>and shaking +his hand</i>.] I’m proud to make your acquaintance, +sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. [<i>Rising +angrily</i>.] Come Thomas, come Luke, come Clara. Us +might be a barn full of broody hens the way we be set around of +this here table. ’Twill be midnight afore the things +is cleared away and washed up.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas</span>. What if it be, +Emily. ’Tisn’t very often as I gets the chance +of minding how ’twas in times gone past. Ah, I was a +young man in those days, too, I was.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Emily</span>. And ’tis a rare +old addle head as you be got now, Thomas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie</span>. [<i>Slipping her hand +into</i> <span class="smcap">Thomas’s</span>.] O do +let us sit up till midnight, Dad.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robin</span>. I shall eat a smartish +lot more if we does.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h2>MY MAN JOHN</h2> +<h3>CHARACTERS</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>, <i>her son</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>his farm hand</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>, <i>their maid</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>, <i>the owner of +Luther’s Farm</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>, <span +class="smcap">Chris</span>, <span class="smcap">Nat</span>, <span +class="smcap">Tansie</span>, <i>gipsies</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT I.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>The garden of the Road Farm</i>. <i>To the right an +arbour covered with roses</i>. <span class="smcap">Mrs. +Gardner</span> <i>is seated in it</i>, <i>knitting</i>. +<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>is tying up flowers and +watering them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. And you have +come to a ripe age when ’tis the plain duty of a man to +turn himself towards matrimony, William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Tis a bit of +quiet that I’m after, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Quiet! +’tis a good shaking up as you want, William. Why, you +have got as set in your ways as last season’s jelly.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Then let me bide +so. ’Tis all I ask.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. No, +William. I’m got to be an old woman now, and +’tis time that I had someone at my side to help in the +house-keeping and to share the work.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. What’s Susan +for, if ’tisn’t to do that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Susan? As +idle a piece of goods as ever was seen on a summer’s +day! No. ’Tisn’t a serving maid that I +was thinking of, but someone who should be of more account in the +house. ’Tis a daughter that I’m wanting, +William, and I’ve picked out the one who is to my +taste.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Then you’ve +done more than I have, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. ’Tis the +young person whom Luther Smith has left his farm and all his +money to. I’ve got my eye on her for you, +William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Then you’ll +please to put your eye somewhere else, Mother, for I’ve +seen them, and they don’t suit me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Come, this is +news, William. Pray where did you meet?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Twas when I +was in church last Sunday. In they came, the two young +maids from Luthers, like a couple of gallinie fowls, the way they +did step up over the stones and shake the plumes of them this way +and that. I don’t hold with fancy tricks. I +never could abide them. No foreign wenches for me. +And that’s about all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. ’Tis true +they are from town, but none the worse for that, William. +You have got sadly rude and cumbersome in your ways, or you +wouldn’t feel as you do towards a suitable young +person. ’Tis from getting about with John so much, I +think.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Now look you here, +Mother, I’ve got used to my own ways, and when a +man’s got set in his own ways, ’tis best to leave him +there. I’m past the age for marrying, and you ought +to know this better than anyone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. I know that +’tis a rare lot of foolishness that you do talk, William, +seeing as you’re not a year past thirty yet. But if +you can’t be got to wed for love of a maid, perhaps +you’ll do so for love of a purse, when ’tis fairly +filled.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. There’s always +been enough for you and me so far, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Ah, but that +won’t last for ever. I’m got an old woman, and +I can’t do with the dairy nor the poultry as I was used to +do. And things have not the same prices to them as +’twas a few years gone by. And last year’s +season was the worst that I remember.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. So +’twas. But so long as there’s a roof over our +heads and a loaf of bread and a bit of garden for me to work on, +where’s the harm, Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. O you put me +out of all patience, William. Where’s the rent to +come from if we go on like this? And the clothing, and the +food? And John’s wages, and your flower seeds, if it +comes to that, for you have got terrible wasteful over the +flowers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I wish you’d +take it quieter, Mother. Look at you bed of musk, +’tis a grand smell that comes up from it all around.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. No, +William. I’ve no eye for musk, nor nose to smell at +it either till you’ve spoken the word that I require.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Best let things bide +as they are, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. I’ll +leave you no rest till you do as I wish, William. I’m +got an old woman, and ’tis hard I should be denied in aught +that I’ve set my heart upon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Please to set it +upon something different, Mother, for I’m not a marrying +man, and John he’ll tell you the same thing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. John! +I’m sick of the very name of him. I can’t think +how ’tis that you can lower yourself by being so close with +a common farm hand, William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Ah, ’twould be +a rare hard matter to find the equal to John, Mother. +’Tis of gold all through, and every bit of him, that he is +made. You don’t see many like John these days, +that’s the truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Well, then, +John, won’t be here much longer, for we shan’t have +anything to give him if things go on like this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I’d wed forty +wives sooner than lose John—and that I would.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. I’m not +asking you to wed forty. ’Tis only one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. And that one?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. The young +person who’s got Luther’s farm. Her name is +Julia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Leaving his +flower border and walking up and down thoughtfully</i>.] +Would she be the one with the cherry colour ribbons to her +gown?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. I’m sure +I don’t know. I was not at church last Sunday.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Or t’other one +in green?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. You appear to +have used your eyes pretty well, William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. O, I can see a +smartish bit about me when I choose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. T’other +wench is but the housekeeper.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Where did you get +that from?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. ’Twas +Susan who told me. She got it off someone down in the +village.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Well, which of the +maids would have had the cherry-coloured ribbons to her, +Mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. I’m sure +I don’t know, but if you go up there courting this +afternoon, may happen that you’ll find out.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. This +afternoon? O, that’s much too sudden like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Not a bit of +it. Recollect, your fancy has been set on her since +Sunday.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Come, Mother, you +can’t expect a man to jump into the river all of a sudden +like this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. I expect you to +go up there this very day and to commence telling her of your +feelings.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. But I’ve got +no feelings that I can tell her of, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Then +you’ll please to find some, William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Tis a thing +that in all my life I’ve never done as to go visiting of a +strange wench of an afternoon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Then ’tis +time you did begin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. And what’s +more, I’ll not do it, neither.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Then I must +tell John that we have no further need of his services, for where +the money to pay him is to come from, I don’t know.</p> +<p>[<i>She rolls up her knitting and rises</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Stop a moment, +Mother—stop a moment. Maybe ’twon’t be so +bad when I’ve got more used to the idea. You’ve +pitched it upon me so sudden like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Rent day has +pitched upon me more sudden, William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Look you, Mother, +I’ll get and turn it about in my mind a bit. And, +maybe, I’ll talk it over with John. I can’t do +more, can I now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Talk it over +with whom you please, William. But remember ’tis this +very afternoon that you have to start courting. I’ve +laid your best clothes out all ready on your bed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Sighing +heavily</i>.] O then I count there’s no way out of +it. But how am I to bring it off? ’Tis that +I’d like to know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Maybe your man +will be able to give you some suitable advice. Such things +are beyond me, I’m afraid.</p> +<p>[<i>She gathers up her work things</i>, <i>and with a +contemptuous look at her son</i>, <i>she goes slowly out of the +garden</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>remains on the path +lost in perturbed thought</i>. <i>Suddenly he goes to the +gate and calls loudly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. John, John!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>From +afar</i>.] Yes, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. +[<i>Calling</i>.] Come you here, John, as quick as you can +run.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That I will, +master.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>hurries into the +garden</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. John, I’m +powerful upset.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Mistress’s fowls +bain’t got among the flowers again, be they, Master +William?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. No, no, John. +’Tisn’t so bad as that. But I’m in a +smartish fix, I can tell you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. How’s that, +master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. John, did you ever +go a’courting?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well, master, +that’s a thing to ask a man!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Tis a +terrible serious matter, John. Did you ever go?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Courting?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Yes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Why, I count as I have +went a score of times, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. A score of times, +John! But that was before you were got to the age you are +now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Before that, and now, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. And now, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. To be sure, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Then you know how +’tis done?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, that I does, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Well, John, +you’re the man for me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Lord bless us, master, +but what have you to do with courting?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. You may well ask me, +John. Why, look you here—until this very morning, you +would say I was a quiet and a peaceable man, with the right place +for everything and everything in its place.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, and that you was, +Master William. And a time for all things too, and a +decenter, proper gentleman no man ever served—that’s +truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Ah, John—the +mistress has set her will to change all this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Now, you’d knock +me down with a feather.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. That she has, +John. I’ve got to set out courting—a thing +I’ve never thought to do in all my living days.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That I’ll be +bound you have not, Master William, though a finer gentleman than +yourself is not to be found in all the country side.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>With shy +eagerness</i>.] Is that how I appear to you, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, and that you does, +master. And ’tis the wonder with all for miles around +as how you’ve been and kept yourself to yourself like this, +so many years.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Well, John, it +appears that I’m to pass out of my own keeping. My +Sunday clothes are all laid out upon the bed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Bless my soul, Master +William, and ’tis but Thursday too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Isn’t that a +proper day for this sort of business, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’ve always been +used to Saturday myself, but with a gentleman ’tis +different like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Well, John, +there’s nothing in this day or that as far as I can +see. A bad job is a bad job, no matter what, and the day of +it does make but very little difference.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You’re right +there, master. But if I may be so bold, where is it as you +be going off courting this afternoon?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Ah—now you and +me will have a straight talk one with another—for +’tis to you I look, John, for to pull me out of this fix +where the mistress has gone and put me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And that I’ll do, +master—with all the will in the world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Well then, John, +’tis to be one of those maids from strange parts who are +come to live at old Luther’s, up yonder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, I seed the pair of +them in church last Sunday. Fine maids, the both of them, +and properly suitable if you was to ask me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Tis only the +one I’ve got to court, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And I reckon +that’s one too many, Master William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. You’re right +there, John. ’Tis Mistress Julia I’ve to go +at.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And which of the pair +would that be, Master William?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. That one with the +cherry colour ribbons to her gown, I believe.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, t’other was +plainer in her dressing, and did keep the head of her bent +smartish low on her book, so that a man couldn’t get a fair +look upon she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. That would be the +housekeeper or summat. ’Tis Julia, who has the old +man’s money, I’m to court.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well, master, +I’ll come along with you a bit of the road, to keep your +heart up like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. You must do more +than that for me, John. You’ve got to learn me how +the courting is done before I set off.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Why, master, courting +baint a thing what wants much learning, that’s the +truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Tis all new +to me, John. I’m blessed if I know how to +commence. Why, the thought of it at once sends me hot all +over; and then as cold again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You start and get your +clothes on, master. ’Tis half the +battle—clothes. What a man cannot bring out of his +mouth of a Saturday will fall out easy as anything on the Sunday +with his best coat to his back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. No, John. The +clothes won’t help me in this fix. You must tell me +how to start once I get to the farm and am by the door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You might take a +nosegay with you, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I might. And +yet, ’tis a pity to cut the blooms for naught.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I always takes a +nosegay with me, of a Saturday night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Why, John, who is it +that you are courting then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis that wench +Susan, since you ask me, master. But not a word of it to +th’ old mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I’ll not +mention it, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Thank you kindly, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. And now, John, when +the nosegay’s all gathered and the flowers bunched, what +else should I do?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well, then you gives it +her when you gets to the door. And very like she’ll +ask you into the parlour, seeing as you be a particular fine +looking gentleman.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I could not stand +that, John. I’ve no tongue to me within a strange +house.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well then, maybe as you +and she will sit aside of one another in an arbour in the garden, +or sommat of the sort.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Yes, John. And +what next?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’m blessed if I +do know, master. You go along and commence.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. No, John, and that I +won’t. Not till I know more about it like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well, master, I’m +fairly puzzled hard to tell you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I have the very +thought, John. Do you bring Susan out here. +I’ll place myself behind the shrubs, and do you get and +court her as well as you know how; and maybe that will learn me +something.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Susan’s a +terrible hard wench to court, Master William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Twill make +the better lesson, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis a stone in +place of a heart what Susan’s got.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Twill very +likely be the same with Julia. Go and bring her quickly, +John.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>places himself behind +the arbour</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. As you will, +master—but Susan have been wonderful nasty in her ways with +me of late. ’Tis my belief as she have took up with +one of they low gipsy lads what have been tenting up yonder, +against the wood.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Well, ’twill +be your business to win her back to you, John. See—am +I properly hid, behind the arbour?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Grandly hid, +master—I’ll go and fetch the wench. [<span +class="smcap">John</span> <i>leaves the garden</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>remains hidden behind +the arbour</i>. <i>After a few minutes</i> <span +class="smcap">John</span> <i>returns pulling</i> <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>by the hand</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. And what are you +about, bringing me into master’s flower garden at this time +of the morning? I should like for mistress to look out of +one of the windows—you’d get into fine trouble, and +me too, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Susan, my dear, you be +a passing fine wench to look upon, and that’s the +truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. And is it to tell me +such foolishness that you’ve brought me all the way out of +the kitchen?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Stooping and +picking a dandelion</i>.] And to give you this flower, dear +Susan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. [<i>Throwing it +down</i>.] A common thing like that! I’ll have +none of it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis prime you +looks when you be angered, Susan. The blue fire do fairly +leap from your eyes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. O you’re enough +to anger a saint, John. What have you brought me here +for?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I thought I’d +like to tell you as you was such a fine wench, Susan. And +that I did never see a finer.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. You do look at me as +though I was yonder prize heifer what Master William’s so +powerful set on.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah—and ’tis +true as you have sommat of the look of she when you stands a +pawing of the ground as you be now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Is it to insult me +that you’ve got me away from the kitchen, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Nay—’tis to +tell you that you be a rare smartish wench—and I’ll +go along to the church with you any day as you will name, my +dear.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. That you won’t, +John. I don’t mind taking a nosegay of flowers from +you now and then, and hearing you speak nice to me over the +garden gate of an evening, but I’m not a-going any further +along the road with you. That’s all. [<i>She +moves towards the house</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Now, do you bide a +moment longer, Susan—and let me say sommat of all they +feelings which be stirring like a nest of young birds in my heart +for you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. They may stir within +you like an old waspes’ nest for all I care, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Come, Susan, put better +words to your tongue nor they. You can speak honey sweet +when it do please you to.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. ’Tis mustard as +is the right food for you this morning, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I gets enough of that +from mistress—I mean—well—I mean—[<i>in a +loud</i>, <i>clear voice</i>]—O mistress is a wonderful +fine woman and no mistake.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. You won’t say as +much when she comes round the corner and catches you a wasting of +your time like this, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Is it a waste of time +to stand a-drinking in the sweetness of the finest rose what +blooms, Susan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Is that me, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Who else should it be, +Susan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Well, +John—sometimes I think there’s not much amiss with +you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. O Susan, them be grand +words.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. But then again—I +do think as you be getting too much like Master William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And a grander gentleman +than he never went upon the earth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Cut and clipped and +trimmed and dry as that box tree yonder. And you be getting +sommat of the same fashion about you, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Then make me +differenter, Susan, you know the way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I’m not so sure +as I do, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Wed me come Michaelmas, +Susan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. And that I’ll +not. And what’s more, I’m not a-going to stop +here talking foolish with you any longer. I’ve work +to do within. [<span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>goes +off</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>mopping his face and +speaking regretfully as</i> <span class="smcap">William</span> +<i>steps from behind the arbour</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. There, master. +That’s courting for you. That’s the sort of +thing. And a caddling thing it is too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. But ’tis a +thing that you do rare finely and well, John. And +’tis you and none other who shall do the job for me this +afternoon, there—that’s what I’ve come to in my +thoughts.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Master, master, +whatever have you got in your head now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. See here, +John—we’ll cut a nosegay for you to carry—some +of the best blooms I’ll spare. And you, who know what +courting is, and who have such fine words to your tongue, shall +step up at once and do the business for me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Master, if ’twas +an acre of stone as you’d asked me to plough, I’d +sooner do it nor a job like this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. John, you’ve +been a good friend to me all the years that you have lived on the +farm, you’ll not go and fail me now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Why not court the lady +with your own tongue, Master William? ’Twould have +better language to it nor what I can give the likes of she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Your words are all +right, John. ’Tisn’t as though sensible speech +was needed. You do know what’s wanted with the maids, +whilst I have never been used to them in any way whatever. +So let’s say no more about it, but commence gathering the +flowers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Heavily</i>, <i>but +resigned</i>.] Since you say so, master. [<i>They +begin to gather flowers</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. What blooms do young +maids like the best, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Put in a sprig of +thyme, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Yes—I can well +spare that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And a rose that’s +half opened, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. It goes to my heart +to have a rose wasted on this business, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tain’t +likely as you can get through courtship without parting with +sommat, master. Lucky if it baint gold as you’re +called upon to spill.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. That’s true, +John—I’ll gather the rose—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. See here, master, the +lily and the pink. Them be brave flowers, the both of them, +and with a terrible fine scent coming out of they.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Put them into the +nosegay, John—And now—no more—’Tis enough +waste for one day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis a smartish +lot of blooms as good as done for, says I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. A slow sowing and a +quick reaping, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis to be hoped +as ’twill be the same with the lady, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. There, off you go, +John. And mind, ’tis her with the cherry ribbon to +her gown and bonnet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Why, master, and her +might have a different ribbon to her head this day, being that +’tis Thursday?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. An eye +like—like a bullace, John. And a grand colour to the +face of her like yon rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That’s enough, +Master William. I’ll not pitch upon the wrong maid, +never fear. And now I’ll clean myself up a bit at the +pump, and set off straight away.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Shaking</i> +<span class="smcap">John’s</span> <i>hand</i>.] Good +luck to you, my man. And if you can bring it off quiet and +decent like without me coming in till at the last, why, +’tis a five pound note that you shall have for your +trouble.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You be a grand +gentleman to serve, Master William, and no mistake about +that.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>A wood</i>. <i>To the right a fallen tree</i> (<i>or +a bench</i>). <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes from +the left</i>, <i>a large bunch of flowers in his hand</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Out, and a taking of +the air in the wood, be they? Well, bless my soul, but +’tis a rare caddling business what master’s put upon +I. ’Tis worse nor any job he have set me to in all +the years I’ve been along of him, so ’tis. But +I’m the one to bring it off slick and straight, and, bless +me, if I won’t take and hide myself by yon great bush till +I see the wenches a-coming up. That’ll give me time +to have a quiet look at the both and pick out she what +master’s going a-courting of.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>puts himself behind some +thick bushes as</i> <span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>come forward</i>. <span +class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>is very simply dressed</i>. +<i>Her head is bare</i>, <i>and she is carrying her white cotton +sunbonnet</i>. <span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>wears +finer clothes and her bonnet is tied by bright ribbons of cherry +colour</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Stopping by the +bench</i>.] We’ll sit down—’Tis a warm +day, and I’ve had enough of walking.</p> +<p>[<i>She sinks down on the seat</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Looking all round +her</i>.] ’Tis beautiful and quiet here. O this +is ever so much better than the farm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. The farm! +What’s wrong with that, I should like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Everything. +’Tis more like a prison than a home to me. Within the +house there’s always work crying out to be done—and +outside I believe ’tis worse—work—nothing else +speaking to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. You’re a sad +ungrateful girl. Why, there’s many would give their +eyes to change with you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. But out here +’tis all peace, and freedom. There’s naught +calling out to be done. The flowers grow as they like, and +the breezes move them this way, and that. The ground is +thick with leaves and blossoms and no one has got to sweep it, +and the hard things with great noises to them, like pails and +churns, are far away and clean forgot.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. ’Tisn’t +much use as you’ll be on the farm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I wish I’d never +come nigh to it. I was happier far before.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. ’Tis a grand +life. You’ll see it as I do one of these days.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. No, that I shall +not. Every day that I wake and hear the cattle lowing +beneath my window I turn over on my pillow, and ’tis a +heart of lead that turns with me. The smell of the wild +flowers in the fields calls me, but ’tis to the dairy I +must go, to work. And at noonday, when the shade of the +woodland makes me thirsty for its coolness, ’tis the +kitchen I must be in—or picking green stuff for the +market. And so on till night, when the limbs of me can do +no more and the spirit in me is like a bird with the wing of it +broken.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. You’ll harden to +it all by winter time right enough.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O I’ll never +harden to it. ’Tis not that way I am made. Some +girls can set themselves down with four walls round them, and do +their task nor ask for anything beyond, but ’tis not so +with me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. How is it then with +you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. +[<i>Pointing</i>.] There—see that blue thing yonder +flying from one blossom to another. That’s how +’tis with me. Shut me up close in one place, I +perish. Let me go free, and I can fly and live.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. You do talk a powerful +lot of foolishness that no one could understand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O, do not let us talk +at all. Let us bide still, and get ourselves refreshed by +the sweetness and the wildness of the forest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>turns away and gives +herself up to the enjoyment of the wood around her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>arranges her ribbons and +smoothes out her gown</i>. <i>Neither of them speak for a +few minutes</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Looking up and +pointing</i>.] See those strange folk over there? +What are they?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Looking in the +same direction</i>.] I know them. They are gipsies +from the hill near to us.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. They should be driven +away then. I don’t like such folk roosting +around.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. But I do. They +are friends to me. Many’s the time I have run out at +dusk to speak with them as they sit round their fire.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Then you didn’t +ought to have done so. Let’s get off now, before they +come up.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. No, no. Let us +talk to them all. [<i>Calling</i>.] Tansie and Chris, +come you here and sit down alongside of us. [<span +class="smcap">Chris</span>, <span class="smcap">Nat</span>, +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Tansie</span> <i>come up</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Good morning to you, +mistress. ’Tis a fine brave day, to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. That it is, +Chris. There never was so fine a day. And we have +come to spend all of it in this forest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. Ah, but ’tis +warm upon the high road.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. We be come right away +from the town, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Then sit down, all of +you, and we will talk in the cool shade.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Not here, if you +please. I am not used to such company.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Not here? Very +well, my friends, let us go further into the wood and you shall +stretch yourselves under the green trees and we will all rest +there together.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Well, what next! +You might stop to consider how ’twill look in the +parish.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. How what will +look?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. How ’twill look +for you to be seen going off in such company like this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. The trees have not +eyes, nor have the grass, and flowers. There’s no one +to see me but you, and you can turn your head t’other +way. Come Tansie, come Chris. [<i>She turns towards +the three gipsies</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. Nat’s in a +sorry way, this morning—baint you, Nat?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. Let I be. You do +torment anyone till they scarce do know if they has senses to +them or no.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. You’re not one +to miss what you never had, Nat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Let the lad bide in +quiet, will you. ’Tis a powerful little nagging wench +as you be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Why are you heavy and +sad this fine day, Nat?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. ’Tis love +what’s the matter with he, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Love? O, +that’s not a thing that should bring heaviness or gloom, +but lightness to the heart, and song to the lips.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. Ah, but when +there’s been no meeting in the dusk since Sunday, and no +message sent!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Keep that tongue of +your’n where it should be, and give over, Tansie. +Susan’s not one as would play tricks with her lad.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Now I have a thirst to +hear all about this, Nat, so come off further into the wood, all +of you, where we can speak in quiet.</p> +<p>[<i>She holds out her hand to</i> <span +class="smcap">Nat</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Upon my word, but +something must be done to bring these goings on to an end.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Come, Nat—you +shall tell me all your trouble. I understand the things of +the heart better than Tansie, and I shall know how to give you +comfort in your distress—come!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Nat</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">Chris</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Tansie</span>, <i>move off out of sight</i>. +<span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>is left sitting on the bench +alone</i>. <i>Presently</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> +<i>comes out carefully from behind the bushes</i>, <i>holding his +bunch of flowers</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. A good day to you, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. The same to you, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Folks do call me +John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Indeed? Good +morning, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. A fine brave sun +to-day, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. But pleasant enough +here in the shade.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Now, begging your +pardon, but what you wants over the head of you baint one of +these great trees full of flies and insects, but an arbour +trailed all about with bloom, such as my master has down at his +place yonder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Indeed? And who +may your master be, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis Master +William Gardner, what’s the talk of the country for miles +around, mistress. And that he be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Master William +Gardner! What, he of Road Farm?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. The very same, +mistress. And as grand a gentleman as anyone might wish for +to see.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Yes—I seem to +have heard something told about him, but I don’t rightly +remember what ’twas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You may have heard tell +as the finest field of beans this season, that’s his.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. I don’t think +’twas of beans that I did hear.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Or that ’twas his +spotted hilt what fetched the highest price of any in the market +Saturday?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. No, +’twasn’t that neither.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Or that folks do come +as thick as flies on a summer’s day from all parts of the +country for to buy the wheat what he do grow. Ah, and +before ’tis cut or like to be, they be a fighting for it, +all of them, like a pack of dogs with a bone. So +’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. ’Twasn’t +that, I don’t think.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Or ’twas that +th’ old missis—she as is mother to Master +William—her has a tongue what’s sharper nor longer +than any vixen’s going. But that’s between you +and I, missis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Ah—’Twas +that I did hear tell of. Now I remember it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. But Master +William—the tongue what he do keep be smooth as honey, and +a lady might do as she likes with him if one got the chance.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Indeed? He must +be a pleasant sort of a gentleman.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. For he could be led +with kindness same as anything else. But try for to drive +him, as old Missis do—and very likely ’tis hoofed as +you’ll get for your pains.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. I like a man with some +spirit to him, myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, Master William has +a rare spirit to him, and that he has. You should hear him +when th’ old Missis’s fowls be got into his flower +garden. ’Tis sommat as is not likely to be forgot in +a hurry. That ’tisn’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. You carry a handsome +nosegay of blossoms there, John. Are they from your +master’s garden?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, there’re not +amiss. I helped for to raise they too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. And to whom are you +taking them now, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. To the lady what my +master’s a-courting of, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. And whom may that be, +John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Why, ’tis +yourself, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Me, John? Why, +I’ve never clapped eyes on Master William Gardner so far as +I know of.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. But he’ve clapped +eyes on you, mistress—’twas at Church last +Sunday. And ’tis not a bit of food, nor a drop of +drink, nor an hour of sleep, as Master William have taken +since.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O, you do surprise me, +John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That’s how +’tis with he, mistress. ’Tis many a year as +I’ve served Master William—but never have I seen him +in the fix where he be in to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Why—how is it +with him then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. As it might be with the +cattle when the flies do buzz about they, thick in the +sunshine. A-lashing this way and that, a-trampling and +a-tossing, and never a minute’s rest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Well, now—to +think of such a thing. Indeed!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’ve seen a horse +right up to the neck of him in that old quag ahind of our +place—a-snorting and a-clapping with his teeth and +a-plunging so as ’twould terrify anyone to harken to +it. And that’s how ’tis to-day with Master +William up at home, so ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. And only saw me +once—at Church last Sunday, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah—and they old +maid flies do sting but once, but ’tis a terrible big bump +as they do raise on the flesh of anyone, that ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O +John—’tis a fine thing to be loved like that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. So I should +say—ah, ’tisn’t every day that a man like +Master William goes a-courting.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. But he hasn’t +set out yet, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You take and hold the +nosegay, mistress, and I’ll go straight off and fetch him, +so being as you’re agreeable.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O yes, and that I am, +John—You go and fetch him quick. I’ll bide here +gladly, waiting till he comes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That’s it. +I knowed you for a sensible lady the moment I pitched my eyes on +to you. And when master do come up, you take and talk to +him nicely and meek-like and lead him on from one thing to +t’other: and you’ll find as he’ll go quiet as a +sheep after the first set off, spite of the great spirit +what’s at the heart of he.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. John, I’ll do +all as you say, and more than all. Only, you get along and +send him quickly to me. And—yes, you might give him a +good hint, John—I’m not averse to his attentions.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, and I should think +you wasn’t, for ’twould be a hard job to find a nicer +gentleman nor Master William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. That I know it +would. Why, John, my heart’s commenced beating ever +so fast, it has.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Then you may reckon how +’tis with the poor master! Why, ’tis my belief +as ’twill be raving madness as’ll be the end of he if +sommat don’t come to put a finish to this unrest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O John, ’twould +never do for such a fine gentleman to go crazy. Do you set +off quick and send him along to me, and I’ll take and do my +very best for to quiet him, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Rising and about to +set off</i>.] Ah, ’tis a powerful lot of calming as +Master William do require. But you be the one for to give +it him. You just bide where you do sit now whilst I goes +and fetches him, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O that I will, my +good, dear John.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 2.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The same wood</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">John</span> <i>come up</i>. <span +class="smcap">William</span> <i>carries a large market basket +containing vegetables</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Looking round and +seeing no one</i>.] Bless my soul, but ’twas on the +seat as I did leave she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. We have kept her +waiting a bit too long whilst we were cutting the green +stuff. And now ’twill be best to let matters bide +over till to-morrow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Why, master ’tis +my belief as you be all of a-tremble like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I wish we were well +out of this business, John. ’Tis not to my liking in +any way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis a fine +looking lady, and that ’tis. You take and court her, +Master William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. How am I to court +the wench when she’s not here?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. +[<i>Pointing</i>.] Look yonder, master, there she comes +through them dark trees.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. You’ve got to +bide somewhere nigh me, John. I could not be left alone +with a wench who’s a stranger to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Don’t you get +flustered, Master William. See here, I’ll hide me +ahind of yon bushes, and if so be as you should want me, why, +there I’m close at hand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I’d rather you +did stand at my side, John.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>hides himself behind the +bushes</i>. <span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>comes +slowly up</i>. <span class="smcap">William</span> <i>stands +awkwardly before her</i>, <i>saying nothing</i>. +<i>Presently he takes off his hat and salutes her clumsily and +she bows to him</i>. <i>For some moments they stand +embarrassed</i>, <i>looking at one another</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Suddenly +bringing out a bunch of carrots from his basket and holding them +up</i>.] See these young carrots, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Indeed I do, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Tisn’t +everywhere that you do see such fine grown ones for the time of +year.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. You’re right +there, master. We have none of them up at our place.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Holding them +towards her</i>.] Then be pleased to accept these, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Taking the +carrots</i>.] Thank you kindly, master. [<i>There is +another embarrassed silence</i>. <span +class="smcap">William</span> <i>looks distractedly from</i> <span +class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>to his basket</i>. <i>Then he +takes out a bunch of turnips</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. You couldn’t +beat these nowhere, not if you were to try.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. I’m sure you +could not, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. They do call this +sort the Early Snowball. ’Tis a foolish name for a +table root.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. ’Tis a beautiful +turnip.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Giving her the +bunch</i>.] You may as well have them too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O you’re very +kind, master.</p> +<p>[<i>There is another long silence</i>. <span +class="smcap">William</span> <i>shuffles on his +feet</i>—<span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>bends +admiringly over her gifts</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. There’s young +beans and peas and a spring cabbage too, within the basket. +I do grow a little of most everything.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O shall we sit down +and look at the vegetables together?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Visibly +relieved</i>.] We might do worse nor that. [<i>They +sit down side by side with the basket between them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Lifting the +cabbage</i>.] O, this is quite a little picture! See +how the leaves do curl backwards—so fresh and green!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Ah, and that one has +a rare white heart to it, it has.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. I do love the taste of +a spring cabbage, when it has a slice of fat bacon along with +it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I might have brought +a couple of pounds with me if I’d have thought. +Mother do keep some rare mellow jowls a-hanging in the +pantry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Shyly</i>.] +Next time, maybe.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. +[<i>Eagerly</i>.] ’Twouldn’t take ten minutes +for me to run back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Not now—O no +master—not now. Do you bide a little longer here and +tell me about—about t’other things in the basket.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Mopping his face +with a handkerchief</i>.] Well—there’s the +beans—I count that yours haven’t come up very smart +this year.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. That they’ve +not. The whole place has been let to run dreadful wild.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. +I’d—I’d like to show you how ’tis in my +garden, one of these days.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. I’d be very +pleased to walk along with you there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. +[<i>Hurriedly</i>.] Ah—you should see it later on +when the—the—the parsnips are a bit forrarder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. I’d like to see +the flower garden now, where this nosegay came from.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Looking round +uneasily</i>.] I don’t know what the folks would say +if they were to see you and me a-going on the road in broad +day—I’m sure I don’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Why, what should they +say, Master Gardner?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. They might get +saying—they might say as—as I’d got a-courting, +or sommat foolish.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Well—and would +that be untrue?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Looking at her +very uncomfortably</i>.] I’m blessed if I do +know—I mean—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. This nosegay—and +look, those young carrots—and the turnips and beans, why +did you bring them for me, master, unless it was that you +intended something by it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Very +confused</i>.] That’s so. So ’tis. +That’s true. I count you have got hold of the sow by +the ear right enough this time. And the less said about it +the better. [<i>A slight silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Looking up shyly +in</i> <span class="smcap">William’s</span> face.] +What was it drew you to me first, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I believe +’twas in Church on Sunday that I chanced to take notice of +you, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Yes, but what was it +about me that took your fancy in Church on Sunday?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I’m blessed if +I know, unless ’twas those coloured ribbons that you have +got to your bonnet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. You are partial to the +colour?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Ah, ’tis well +enough.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. See here. +[<i>Taking a flower from her dress</i>.] This is of the +same colour. I will put it in your coat.</p> +<p>[<i>She fastens it in his coat</i>. <span +class="smcap">William</span> <i>looks very uncomfortable and +nervous</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Well, bless my soul, +but women folk have got some powerful strange tricks to them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Pinning the flower +in its place</i>.] There—my gift to you, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. You may call me by +my name, if you like, ’tis more suitable, seeing that we +might go along to Church together one of these days.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O William, you have +made me very happy—I do feel all mazy like with my +gladness.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Well, Julia, we +might do worse than to—to—name the day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Why do you call me +Julia?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Seeing that +I’ve given you leave to call me William ’tis only +suitable that I should use your name as well.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. But my name is not +Julia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. What is it then, I +should like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. ’Tis Laura, +William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Folks did tell me +that you were named Julia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. No—Laura is my +name; but I live with Mistress Julia up at Luther’s Farm, +and I help her with the work. House-keeping, dairy, +poultry, garden. O there’s nothing I can’t turn +my hand to, Master William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Starts up from +the seat in deepest consternation</i>.] John, +John—Come you here, I say! Come here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Emerges from the +bushes</i>.] My dearest master!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. What’s this +you’ve been and done, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Why, master—the +one with the cherry ribbons, to her you did say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. +[<i>Disgustedly</i>.] ’Tis the wrong one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. What are you two +talking about? William, do you mean to say as that man of +yours was hid in the bushes all the while?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Now, John, +you’ve got to get me out of the fix where I’m +set.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. O my dear master, +don’t you take on so. ’Tis a little bit of +misunderstanding to be sure, but one as can be put right very +soon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Then you get to work +and set it right, John, for ’tis beyond the power of me to +do so. I’ll be blessed if I’ll ever get +meddling with this sort of job again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Now don’t you get +so heated, master, but leave it all to me. [<i>Turning +to</i> <span class="smcap">Laura</span>.] My good wench, it +seems that there has been a little bit of misunderstanding +between you and my gentleman here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. +[<i>Angrily</i>.] So that’s what you call +it—misunderstanding ’tis a fine long word, but not +much of meaning, to it, I’m thinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Then you do think +wrong. Suppose you was to go to market for to buy a nice +spring chicken and when you was got half on the way to home you +was to see as they had put you up a lean old fowl in place of it, +what would you do then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. I don’t see that +chickens or fowls have anything to do with the matter.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Then you’re not +the smart maid I took you for. ’Tis not you as would +be suitable in my master’s home. And what’s +more, ’tis not you as my master’s come a-courting +of.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. If ’tis not me, +who is it then?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>looks at her sheepishly +and then turns away</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis your +mistress, since you wants to know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. +[<i>Indignantly</i>.] O, I see it all now—How could I +have been so misled!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. However could poor +master have been so mistook, I say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Turning away +passionately</i>.] O, I’ve had enough of you +and—and your master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Now that’s what I +do like for to hear. Because me and master have sommat else +to do nor to stand giddle-gaddling in this old wood the rest of +the day. Us have got a smartish lot of worry ahead of we, +haven’t us, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. You never said a +truer word, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Come along then Master +William. You can leave the spring vegetables to she. +’Tis more nor she deserves, seeing as her might have known +as ’twas her mistress the both of us was after, all the +time.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>throws herself on the +seat and begins to cry silently</i>, <i>but passionately</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. O John, this +courting, ’tis powerful heavy work.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">William’s</span> <i>arm</i>.] Come you +along with me, master, and I’ll give you a helping hand +with it all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Looking up and +speaking violently</i>.] I warrant you will, you +clown. But let me advise you to look better afore you leap +next time, or very likely ’tis in sommat worse than a +ditchful of nettles as you’ll find yourself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Looking back over +his shoulders as he goes off with</i> <span +class="smcap">William</span>.] I reckon as you’ve no +call to trouble about we, mistress. Us is they what can +look after theirselves very well. Suppose you was to wash +your face and dry your eyes and set about the boiling of yon +spring cabbage. ’Twould be sensibler like nor to bide +grizzling after one as is beyond you in his station, so +’twould.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">William</span> <i>go out</i>, <i>leaving</i> <span +class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>weeping on the bench</i>, <i>the +basket of vegetables by her side</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 3.</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>is sitting at the foot of +a tree in the wood</i>. <span class="smcap">Chris</span>, +<span class="smcap">Nat</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Tansie</span> <i>are seated near her on the +ground</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I wish this day might +last for always.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Why, when +to-morrow’s come, ’twill be the same.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. That it will +not. To-day is a holiday. To-morrow’s work.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. One day ’tis +much the same as t’other with me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. ’Tis what we gets +to eat as do make the change.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. I should have thought +as how a grand young mistress like yourself might have had the +days to your own liking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Ah, and so I did +once. But that was before Uncle died and left me the +farm. Now, ’tis all different with the days.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. How was it with you +afore then, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Much the same as +’tis with that bird flying yonder. I did so as I +listed. If I had a mind to sleep when the sun was up, then +I did sleep. And if my limbs would not rest when +’twas dark, why, then I did roam. There was naught to +hold me back from my fancy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. And how is it +<i>now</i> with you, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. ’Tis all said in +one word.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. What’s that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. ’Tis +“work.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. Work?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Work?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. Work! And yet +’tis a fine young lady as you do look in your muslin gown +with silky ribbons to it and all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I’m a farmer, +Tansie. And for a farmer ’tis work of one sort, or +t’other from when the sun is up till the candle has burned +itself short. If ’tisn’t working with my own +hands, ’tis driving of the hands of another.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. I’ve heard tell +as a farmer do spin gold all the day same as one of they great +spiders as go putting out silk from their mouths.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. And what is gold to +me, Chris, who have no one but myself to spend it on?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Folks do say as the +laying up of gold be one of the finest things in the world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. It will never bring +happiness to me, Chris.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Come, mistress, +’tis a fine thing to have a great stone roof above the head +of you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I’d sooner get +my shelter from the green leaves.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. And a grand thing to +have your victuals spread afore you each time ’stead of +having to go lean very often.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O, a handful of +berries and a drink of fresh water is enough for me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. And beautiful it must +be to stretch the limbs of you upon feathers when night do come +down, with a fine white sheet drawn up over your head.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O, I could rest more +sweetly on the grass and moss yonder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. I did never sleep within +four walls but once, and then ’twas in gaol.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O Nat, you were never +in gaol, were you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. ’Twas that they +mistook I for another. And when the morning did come, they +did let I go again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. I count ’twas a +smartish long night, that!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. ’Twas enough for +to shew me how it do feel when anyone has got to bide sleeping +with the walls all around of he.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. And the ceiling above, +Nat. And locked door. And other folk lying breathing +in the house, hard by. All dark and close.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. And where us may lie, +the air do run swift over we. We has the smell of the earth +and the leaves on us as we do sleep. There baint no +darkness for we, for the stars do blink all night through up +yonder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. And no sound of other +folk breathing but the crying of th’ owls and the +foxes’ bark.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Ah, that must be a +grand sound, the barking of a fox. I never did hear +one. Never.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Ah, ’tis a +powerful thin sound, that—but one to raise the hair on a +man’s head and to clam the flesh of he, at dead of +night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. You come and bide along +of we one evening, and you shall hearken to the fox, and badger +too, if you’ve the mind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O that would please me +more than anything in the world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. And when ’twas +got a little lighter, so that the bushes could be seen, and the +fields, I’d shew you where the partridge has her nest +beneath the hedge; where we have gotten eggs, and eaten them +too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. And I’ll take +and lead you to a place what I do know of, where the water flows +clear as a diamond over the stones. And if you bides there +waiting quiet you may take the fish as they come along—and +there’s a dinner such as the Queen might not get every day +of the week.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O Chris, who is there +to say I must bide in one place when all in me is thirsting to be +in t’other!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. I’m sure I +don’t know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. I should move about +where I did like, if ’twas me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. A fine young lady +like you can do as she pleases.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Well then, it pleases +me to bide with you in the free air.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Our life, ’tis a +poor life, and wandering. ’Tis food one day, and may +be going without the next. ’Tis the sun upon the +faces of us one hour—and then the rain. But +’tis in freedom that us walks, and we be the masters of our +own limbs.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Will you be good to me +if I journey with you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Ah, ’tis not +likely as I’ll ever fail you, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Do not call me +mistress any longer, Chris, my name is Julia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. ’Tis a +well-sounding name, and one as runs easy as clear water upon the +tongue.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Tansie, how will it be +for me to go with you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. ’Twill be well +enough with the spirit of you I don’t doubt, but +how’ll it be with the fine clothes what you have on?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. [<i>Suddenly looking +up</i>.] Why, there’s Susan coming.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Looking in the +same direction</i>.] So that is Susan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. I count as her has +had a smartish job to get away from th’ old missis so early +in the day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. ’Tis a rare old +she cat, and handy with the claw’s of her, Susan’s +missis.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>comes shyly +forward</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. Come you here, Susan, +and sit along of we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Yes, sit down with us +in this cool shade, Susan. You look warm from running.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. O, I didn’t know +you was here, Mistress Julia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Well, Susan, and so +you live at Road Farm. Are you happy there?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I should be if +’twern’t for mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. No mistress could +speak harshly to you, Susan—you are so young and +pretty.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Ah, but mistress takes +no account of aught but the work you does, and the tongue of her +be wonderful lashing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Then how comes it that +you have got away to the forest so early on a week day?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. ’Tis that +mistress be powerful took up with sommat else this afternoon, and +so I was able to run out for a while and her didn’t notice +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. Why Su, what’s +going on up at the farm so particular to-day?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. ’Tis +courting.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">All</span>. Courting?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Yes. That +’tis. ’Tis our Master William what’s +dressed up in his Sunday clothes and gone a-courting with a +basket of green stuff on his arm big enough to fill the market, +very nigh.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Well, well, +who’d have thought he had it in him?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. He’s a gentleman +what’s not cut out for courting, to my mind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Indeed he isn’t, +Nat. And however the mistress got him dressed and set off +on that business, I don’t know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. But you have not told +us who the lady is, Susan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. [<i>Suddenly very +embarrassed</i>.] I—I—don’t think as I do +rightly know who ’tis, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Why, look you, Susan, +you’ll have to take and hide yourself if you don’t +want for them to know as you be got along of we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. What’s that, +Chris?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. +[<i>Pointing</i>.] See there, that man of Master +Gardner’s be a-coming along towards us fast. Look +yonder—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. O whatever shall I +do? ’Tis John, and surely he will tell of me when he +gets back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. Come you off with me +afore he do perceive you, Susan. I’ll take you where +you shall bide hid from all the Johns in the world if +you’ll but come along of me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. That’s it. +Take her off, Nat; take her, Tansie. And do you go along +too, Chris, for I have a fancy to bide alone in the stillness of +the wood for a while.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Susan</span>, <span +class="smcap">Tansie</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Nat</span> <i>go out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Be I to leave you too, +Julia?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Slowly</i>.] +Only for a little moment, Chris; then you can come for me +again. I would like to stay with myself in quiet for a +while. New thoughts have come into my mind and I cannot +rightly understand what they do say to me, unless I hearken to +them alone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Then I’ll leave +you, Julia. For things be stirring powerful in my mind too, +and I’d give sommat for to come to an understanding with +they. Ah, that I would.</p> +<p>[<i>They look at one another in silence for a moment</i>, +<i>then</i> <span class="smcap">Chris</span> <i>slowly follows +the others</i>, <i>leaving</i> <span class="smcap">Julia</span> +<i>alone</i>. <span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>sits +alone in the wood</i>. <i>Presently she begins to +sing</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Singing</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">I sowed the seeds of love,<br /> +It was all in the Spring;<br /> +In April, in May, and in June likewise<br /> +When small birds they do sing.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>with a large basket on his +arm comes up to her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. A good day to you, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Good afternoon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Now I count as you +would like to know who ’tis that’s made so bold in +speaking to you, Mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Why, you’re +Master Gardner’s farm hand, if I’m not mistaken.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, that’s right +enough. And there be jobs as I wish Master William would +get and do for hisself instead of putting them on I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Well, and how far may +you be going this afternoon?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I baint going no +further than where I be a-standing now, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. It would appear that +your business was with me, then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, you’ve hit +the right nail, mistress. ’Tis with you. +’Tis a straight offer as my master have sent me out for to +make.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Now I wonder what sort +of an offer that might be!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis +master’s hand in marriage, and a couple of pigs jowls, +home-cured, within this here basket.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O my good man, +you’re making game of me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And that I baint, +mistress. ’Twas in the church as Master William seed +you first. And ’tis very nigh sick unto death with +love as he have been since then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Is he too sick to come +and plead his cause himself, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, and that he +be. Do go moulting about the place with his victuals left +upon the dish—a sighing and a grizzling so that any maid +what’s got a heart to th’ inside of she would be +moved in pity, did she catch ear of it, and would lift he out of +the torment.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Well, John, I’ve +not seen or heard any of this sad to-do, so I can’t be +moved in pity.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, do you look within +this basket at the jowls what Master William have sent you. +Maybe as they’ll go to your heart straighter nor what any +words might.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>sits down on the bench +by</i> <span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>and opens the +basket</i>. <span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>looks +in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I have no liking for +pigs’ meat myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Master’s pig meat +be different to any in the county, mistress. “Tell +her,” says Master William, “’tis a rare fine +bit of mellow jowl as I be a sending she.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O John, I’m a +very poor judge of such things.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And look you +here. I never seed a bit of Master William’s +home-cured sent out beyond the family to no one till this +day. No, that I have not, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Shutting the +basket</i>.] Well—I have no use for such a gift, +John, so it may be returned again to the family. I am sorry +you had the trouble of bringing it so far.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You may not be partial +to pig meat, mistress, but you’ll send back the key of +Master William’s heart same as you have done the jowls.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I have no use for the +key of Master William’s heart either, John. And you +may tell him so, from me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Why, mistress. +You don’t know what you be a talking of. A man like +my master have never had to take a No in place of Yes in all the +born days of him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Rising</i>.] +Then he’ll have to take it now, John. And I’m +thinking ’tis time you set off home again with your +load.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well, mistress, I +don’t particular care to go afore you have given me a good +word or sommat as’ll hearten up poor Master William in his +love sickness.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Truly, John, I +don’t know what you would have me say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I warrant there be no +lack of words to the inside of you, if so be as you’d open +you mouth a bit wider. ’Tis not silence as a maid is +troubled with in general.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O, I have plenty of +words ready, John, should you care to hear them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Then out with them, +Mistress Julia, and tell the master as how you’ll take the +offer what he have made you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I’ve never seen +your master, John, but I know quite enough about him to say +I’ll never wed with him. Please to make that very +clear when you get back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis plain as you +doesn’t know what you be a talking of. And ’tis +a wonder as how such foolishness can came from the mouth of a +sensible looking maid like yourself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I shall not marry +Master William Gardner.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I reckon as +you’ll be glad enough to eat up every one of them words the +day you claps eyes on Master William, for a more splendid +gentleman nor he never fetched his breath.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I’ll never wed a +farmer, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And then, look at the +gift what Master William’s been and sent you. +’Tisn’t to everyone as master do part with his pig +meat. That ’tisn’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Rising</i>.] +Well, you can tell your master I’m not one that can be +courted with a jowl, mellow or otherwise. And that +I’ll not wed until I can give my heart along with my +hand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’d like to know +where you would find a better one nor master for to give your +heart to, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. May be I have not far +to search.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Taking up the +basket</i>.] You’re a rare tricksy maid as ever I did +see. Tricksy and tossy too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. +There—that’s enough, John. Suppose you set off +home and tell your master he can hang up his meat again in the +larder, for all that it concerns me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’ll be blowed if +I do say anything of the sort, mistress. I shall get and +tell Master William as you be giving a bit of thought to the +matter, and that jowls not being to your fancy, ’tis very +like as a dish of trotters may prove acceptabler.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Say what you like, +John. Only let me bide quiet in this good forest now. +I want to be with my thoughts.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Preparing to go and +speaking aloud to himself</i>.] Her’s a wonderful +contrary bird to be sure. And bain’t a shy one +neither, what gets timid and flustered and is easily +netted. My word, but me and master has a job before us for +to catch she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I hear you, and +’tis very rudely that you talk. There’s an old +saying that I never could see the meaning of before, but now I +think ’tis clear, “Like master, like man,” they +say. I’ll have none of Master William, and you can +tell him so.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>goes out +angrily</i>. <span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>sits down +again on the bench and begins to sing</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Singing</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">My gardener stood by<br /> +And told me to take great care,<br /> +For in the middle of a red rose-bud<br /> +There grows a sharp thorn there.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>comes slowly forward</i>, +<i>carrying the basket of vegetables on one arm</i>. <i>She +holds a handkerchief to her face and is crying</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Why, Laura, what has +made you cry so sadly?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O, Julia, ’twas +a rare red rose as I held in my hand, and a rare cruel thorn that +came from it and did prick me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. And a rare basket of +green stuff that you have been getting.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Sinking down on +the seat</i>, <i>and weeping violently</i>.] His dear gift +to me!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Looking into the +basket</i>.] O a wonderful fine gift, to be sure. +Young carrots and spring cabbage. I’ve had a gift +offered too—but mine was jowls.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Jowls. O, and +did you not take them?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. No, I sent them back +to the giver, with the dry heart which was along with them in the +same basket.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O Julia, how could you +be so hard and cruel?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Come, wouldn’t +you have done the same?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Sobbing +vehemently</i>.] That I should not, Julia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Perhaps you’ve +seen the gentleman then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. I have. And O, +Julia, he is a beautiful gentleman. I never saw one that +was his like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. The rare red rose with +its thorn, Laura.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. He did lay the heart +of him before me—thinking my name was Julia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. And did he lay the +vegetables too?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. ’Twas all the +doing of a great fool, that man of his.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. And you—did you +give him what he asked of you—before he knew that your name +was not Julia?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O, I did—that I +did. [<i>A short silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. And could you forget +the prick of the thorn, did you hold the rose again, Laura?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O that I could. +For me there’d be naught but the rose, were it laid once +more in my hand. But ’tis not likely to be put there, +since ’tis you he favours.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. But I don’t +favour him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. You’ll favour +him powerful well when you see him, Julia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. I’ve given my +heart already, but ’tis not to him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. You’ve given +your heart?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Yes, Chris has all of +it, Laura. There is nothing left for anyone else in the +world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O Julia, think of your +position.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. That I will not +do. I am going to think of yours.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Beginning to +cry</i>.] I’m no better in my station than a serving +maid, like Susan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. +[<i>Pointing</i>.] There she comes [<i>calling</i>] Susan, +Susan!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>comes up</i>. +<i>During the next sentences</i> <span class="smcap">Laura</span> +<i>takes one bunch of vegetables after another from the +basket</i>, <i>smoothing each in turn with a fond caressing +movement</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Did you call, +mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Yes, Susan. That +I did.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Can I help you in any +way, Miss Julia?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Yes, and that you +can. You have got to run quickly back to the farm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Be it got terrible +late, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. ’Tis not only +that. You have got to find your master and tell him to +expect a visit from me in less than an hour’s time from +now. Do you understand?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. O, yes, mistress, and +that I do—to tell master as you be coming along after he as +fast as you can run.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Well—I should +not have put it in that way, but ’tis near enough may +be. So off, and make haste, Susan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Please, mistress, I +could make the words have a more loving sound to them if you do +wish it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. My goodness, Susan, +what are you thinking of? Say naught, but that I’m +coming. Run away now, and run quickly. [<span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>goes off</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Looking up</i>, +<i>a bunch of carrots in her hands</i>.] What are you going +to do now, Julia?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. You shall see, when +you have done playing with those carrots.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. He pulled them, every +one, with his own hands, Julia.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. My love has gathered +something better for me than a carrot. See, a spray of +elder bloom that was tossing ever so high in the wind.</p> +<p>[<i>She takes a branch of elder flower from her dress</i>, +<i>and shews it to</i> <span class="smcap">Laura</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. The roots that lie +warm in the earth do seem more homely like to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Well—each one +has their own way in love—and mine lies through the dark +woods, and yours is in the vegetable garden. And ’tis +your road that we will take this afternoon—so come along +quickly with me, Laura, for the sun has already begun to change +its light.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>replaces the vegetables +in her basket and rises from the seat as the curtain +falls</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT III.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Garden of Road Farm as in +Act I</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span> <i>is knitting in the +Arbour</i>. <span class="smcap">William</span> <i>strolls +about gloomily</i>, <i>his hands in his pockets</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. And serve you +right, William, for sending the man when you should have gone +yourself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. John has a tongue +that is better used to this sort of business than mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Nonsense, when +was one of our family ever known to fail in the tongue?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. If she that was +asked first had only been the right one, all would have been over +and done with now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. ’Tis John +that you have got to thank for the blunder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. +[<i>Sighing</i>.] That was a rare fine maid, and no +mistake.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. And a rare +brazen hussy, from all that has reached my ears.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. +Well—I’ve done with courting—now and for all +time, that I have. And you may roast me alive if I’ll +ever go nigh to a maid again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. That you shall, +William—and quickly too. There’s no time like +the present, and your Sunday clothes are upon you still.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I was just going up +to change, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Then +you’ll please to remain as you are. You may take what +gift you like along with you this time, so long as it’s +none of my home-cured meat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I’m blessed if +I do stir out again this day. Why, look at the seedlings +crying for water, and the nets to lay over the fruit and sommat +of everything wanting to be done all around of me. +I’ll not stir.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes towards +them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Here’s +John. Suppose he were to make himself useful in the garden +for once instead of meddling in things that are none of his +business.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’ll be blowed if +’tis any more courting as I’ll do, neither for Master +William nor on my own account.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Why, John, +’twasn’t your fault that the lady wouldn’t take +me, you did your best with her, I know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. An that I did, Master +William, but a more contrary coxsy sort of a maid I never did +see. “I baint one as fancies pig meat,” her did +say. And the nose of she did curl away up till it could go +no higher. That’s not the wench for me, I says to +myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Is the jowl +hung up in its right place again, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That ’tis, +mistress. I put it back myself, and a good job for that +’taint went out of the family and off to the mouths of +strangers, so says I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Do you tend to +Master William’s garden John, instead of talking. +We’ve had enough of your tongue for one day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Why, be Master William +goin’ out for to court again, this afternoon?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. No, John—No, +I’ve had enough of that for my life time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. So have I, master, and +more nor enough. I don’t care particular if I never +set eyes on a maid again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Pointing to a +plot of ground</i>.] That’s where I pulled the young +carrots this morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, and so you did, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. And there’s +from where I took the Early Snowballs.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And a great pity as you +did. There be none too many of that sort here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. She had a wonderful +soft look in her eyes as she did handle them and the spring +cabbage, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, and a wonderful +hard tongue when her knowed ’twasn’t for she as they +was pulled.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Was t’other +maid anything of the same pattern, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Upon my word, if +t’other wasn’t the worst of the two, for she did put +a powerful lot of venom into the looks as she did give I, and the +words did fall from she like so many bricks on my head.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Pity the first was +not the right maid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, a maid what can +treat a prime home-cured jowl as yon did baint the sort for to +mistress it over we, I’m thinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. See here, +John—suppose you were to let your tongue bide still in its +home awhile, and start doing something with your hands.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That’s right +enough, mistress. What’s wanted, Master William?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I’m blessed if +I can recollect, John. This courting business lies heavy on +me, and I don’t seem able to get above it, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’d let it alone, +master, if I was you. They be all alike, the maids. +And ’twouldn’t be amiss if we was to serve they as we +serves the snails when they gets to the young plants.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>comes hurriedly into the +garden</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Please master, please +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. What do you +mean, Susan, by coming into the garden without your cap? Go +and put it on at once.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. The wind must have +lifted it from me, mistress, for I was running ever so fast.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Do you expect +me to believe that, Susan—and not a breath stirring the +flowers or trees, or anything?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. ’Twas the lady I +met as—as—as I was coming across the field from +feeding the fowls.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. What lady, +Susan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Her from +Luther’s, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And what of she; out +with it, wench.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. She did tell I to say +as she be coming along as fast as she may after Master +William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>As though to +himself with an accent of despair</i>.] No. No.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. There, master, +didn’t I tell you so?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Very +nervously</i>.] What did you tell me, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That, let her abide and +her’d find the senses of she presently.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. O I’m blessed +if I do know what to do.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>takes his master’s +arm and draws him aside</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You pluck up your +heart, my dearest master, and court she hard. And in less +nor a six months ’tis along to church as you’ll be +a-driving she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. But John, ’tis +t’other with the cherry ribbons that has taken all my +fancy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. No, no, Master +William. You take and court the mistress. You take +and tame the young vixen, and get the gold and silver from +she. T’other wench is but the serving maid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. The lady’s +coming along ever so quickly, master.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>, <i>rising and +folding up her knitting</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. You’ll +please to come indoors with me, William, and I’ll brush you +down and make you look more presentable than you appear just +now. Susan, you’ll get a cap to you head at once, do +you hear me! And John, take and water master’s +seedlings. Any one can stand with their mouths open and +their eyes as big as gooseberries if they’ve a mind. +’Tis not particular sharp to do so. Come, +William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I’d like a +word or two with John first, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. You come along +with me this moment, William. ’Tis a too many words +by far that you’ve had with John already, and much good +they’ve done to you. Come you in with me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. O I’m blessed +if I do know whether ’tis on my head or on my feet that +I’m standing.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>follows his mother +slowly and gloomily into the house</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well—if ever +there was a poor, tormented animal ’tis the master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Ah, mistress should +have been born a drover by rights. ’Tis a grand +nagging one as her’d have made, and sommat what no beast +would ever have got the better of.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I wouldn’t stand +in Master William’s shoes, not if you was to put me knee +deep in gold.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Nor I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, this courting +business, ’tis a rare caddling muddle when ’tis all +done and said.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. ’Tis according +as some folks do find it, Master John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis a smartish +lot as you’ll get of it come Sunday night, my wench. +You wait and see.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. That shews how little +you do know. ’Twill be better nor ever with me +then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Twill be alone +by yourself as you’ll go walking, Su.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. We’ll see about +that when the time comes, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. All I says is that I +baint a-going walking with you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I never walk with two, +John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You’ll have to +learn to go in your own company.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I shall go by the side +of my husband by then, very likely.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Your husband? +What tales be you a-giving out now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. ’Tis to Nat as +I’m to be wed come Saturday.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Get along with you, +Susan, and put a cap to your head. Mistress will be coming +out presently, and then you know how ’twill be if her +catches you so. Get along in with you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Now you don’t +believe what I’m telling you—but it’s true, O +it’s true.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Look +here—There’s company at the gate, and you a-standing +there like any rough gipsy wench on the road. Get you in +and make yourself a decenter appearance and then go and tell the +mistress as they be comed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. [<i>Preparing to go +indoors and speaking over her shoulder</i>.] ’Tis in +the parson’s gown as you should be clothed, Master +John. Ah, ’tis a wonderful wordy preacher as you +would make, to be sure. And ’tis a rare crop as one +might raise with the seed as do fall from your mouth.</p> +<p>[<i>She goes indoors</i>. <span +class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>comes leisurely into the +garden</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Well, John, and how +are you feeling now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Nicely, thank you, +mistress. See yon arbour?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. And that I do, +John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well, you may go and +sit within it till the master has leisure to come and speak with +you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Thank you, John, but I +would sooner stop and watch you tend the flowers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis all one to +me whether you does or you does not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Now, John, you are +angry with me still.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I likes a wench as do +know the mind of she, and not one as can blow hot one moment and +cold the next.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. There was never a +moment when I did not know my own mind, John. And +that’s the truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well, us won’t +say no more about that. ’Taint fit as there should be +ill feeling nor quarrelling ’twixt me and you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. You’re right, +John. And there was something that I had it in my mind to +ask you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You can say your +fill. There baint no one but me in the garden.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. John, you told me that +since Sunday your master has been sick with love.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That’s right +enough, mistress. I count as we shall bury he if sommat +don’t come to his relief.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Now, John, do you look +into my eyes and tell me if ’tis for love of Julia or of +Laura that your master lies sickening.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You’d best go and +ask it of his self, mistress. ’Tis a smartish lot of +work as I’ve got to attend to here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. You can go on working, +John. I am not hindering you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. No more than one of +they old Juney bettels a-roaring and a-buzzin round a man’s +head.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Now, John—you +must tell me which of the two it is. Is it Laura whom your +master loves, or Julia?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis Julia, then, +since you will have it out of me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. No, John, you’re +not looking straight at me. You are looking down at the +flower bed. Let your eyes meet mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Looking up +crossly</i>.] I’ve got my work to think of. +I’m not one to stand cackling with a maid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Could you swear me it +is Julia?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis naught to I +which of you it be. There bide over, so as I can get the +watering finished.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Seizes the +watering can</i>.] Now, John, you have got to speak the +truth to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Give up yon can, I tell +you. O you do act wonderful unseemly for a young lady.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Withholding the +can</i>.] Not till I have the truth from you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Angrily</i>.] +Well then, is it likely that my master would set his fancy on +such a plaguy, wayward maid? Why, Master William do know +better nor to do such a thing, I can tell you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Then ’tis for +Laura that he is love-sick, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Give I the watering +can.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Giving him the +can</i>.] Here it is, dear John. O I had a fancy all +the time that ’twas to Laura your master had lost his +heart. And now I see I made no mistake.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I shouldn’t have +spoke as I did if you hadn’t a buzzed around I till I was +drove very nigh crazy. Master William, he’ll never +forgive me this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. That he will, +I’m sure, when he has listened to what I have got to say to +him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You do set a powerful +store on what your tongue might say, but I’d take and bide +quiet at home if I was you and not come hunting of a nice +reasonable gentleman like master, out of his very garden.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O John, you’re a +sad, ill-natured man, and you misjudge me very unkindly. +But I’ll not bear malice if you will just run in and tell +your master that I want a word with him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. A word? Why not +say fifty? When was a maid ever satisfied with one word +I’d like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. Well—I +shan’t say more than six, very likely, so fetch him to me +now, John, and I’ll wait here in the garden. [<span +class="smcap">John</span> <i>looks at her with exasperated +contempt</i>. <i>Then he slowly walks away towards the +house</i>. <span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>goes in the +opposite direction to the garden gate</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. +[<i>Calling</i>.] Chris! [<span +class="smcap">Chris</span> <i>comes in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. +[<i>Pointing</i>.] O Chris, look at this fine +garden—and yon arbour—see the fine house, with lace +curtains to the windows of it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. +[<i>Sullenly</i>.] Ah—I sees it all very well.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. And all this could be +mine for the stretching out of a hand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Then stretch it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. ’Twould be like +putting a wild bird into a gilded cage, to set me here in this +place. No, I must go free with you, Chris—and we will +wander where our spirits lead us—over all the world if we +have a mind to do so.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. Please God +you’ll not grieve at your choice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. That I never +shall. Now call to Laura. Is she in the lane +outside?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. There, she be come to +the gate now.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>comes in</i>, <i>followed +by</i> <span class="smcap">Nat</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Tansie</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Pointing to a +place on the ground</i>.] Laura, see, here is the place +from which your young carrots were pulled.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O look at the flowers, +Julia—Lillies, pinks and red roses.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. ’Tis a fine red +rose that shall be gathered for you presently, Laura. +[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes up</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. The master’s very +nigh ready now, mistress.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>follows him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. The mistress says, +please to be seated till she do come.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Chris</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Nat</span>.] Now, my men, we don’t want +the likes of you in here. You had best get off afore Master +William catches sight of you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. No, John. These +are my friends, and I wish them to hear all that I have to say to +your master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, ’tis in the +grave as poor Master William will be landed soon if you +don’t have a care.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. +[<i>Anxiously</i>.] O is he so delicate as that, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah—and that he +be. And these here love matters and courtings and +foolishness have very nigh done for he. I don’t give +him but a week longer if things do go on as they be now.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">William</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span> <i>come in</i>. <span +class="smcap">William</span> <i>looks nervously round +him</i>. <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span> +<i>perceives the gipsies</i>, <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>talking to</i> <span +class="smcap">Nat</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Susan, get you +to your place in the kitchen, as quick as you can. John, +put yon roadsters through the gate, if you please. +[<i>Turning to</i> <span class="smcap">Julia</span>.] Now +young Miss?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. A very good evening to +you, mistress. And let me make Chris known to you for he +and I are to be wed to-morrow.</p> +<p>[<i>She takes</i> <span class="smcap">Chris</span> <i>by the +hand and leads him forward</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. What’s +this? William, do you understand what the young person is +telling us?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>with her other hand</i>.] And +here is Laura to whom I have given all my land and all my +money. She is the mistress of Luther’s now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Aside to</i> <span +class="smcap">William</span>.] Now master, hearken to +that. Can’t you lift your spirits a bit.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>.] And I beg you to accept +her as a daughter. She will make a better farmer’s +wife than ever I shall.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>In a loud +whisper</i>.] Start courting, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. O I dare not quite +so sudden, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. [<i>Sitting +down</i>.] It will take a few moments for me to understand +this situation.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. There is no need for +any hurry. We have all the evening before us.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Hastily gathers a +rosebud and puts it into</i> <span +class="smcap">William’s</span> <i>hand</i>.] Give her +a blossom, master. ’Tis an easy start off.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Coming forward +shyly with the flower</i>.] Would you fancy a rosebud, +mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O that I would, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. Should you care to +see—to see where the young celery is planted out?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. O, I’d dearly +love to see the spot.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. I’ll take you +along to it then. [<i>He gives her his arm</i>, <i>very +awkwardly</i>, <i>and they move away</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. [<i>Sitting +down</i>.] Well—things have changed since I was +young.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Looking viciously +at</i> <span class="smcap">Nat</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Susan</span>.] Ah, I counts they have, +mistress, and ’tis all for the worse.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. [<i>Comes forward +timidly</i>.] And me and Nat are to be married too, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. I should have +given you notice anyhow to-night, Susan, so perhaps it’s +just as well you have made sure of some sort of a roof to your +head.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Nat</span>. ’Twill be but the +roof of th’ old cart, mistress; but I warrant as +her’ll sleep bravely under it, won’t you, Su.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. That I shall, dear +Nat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. Well, Master John, +have you a fancy to come tenting along of we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Upon my word, but I +don’t know how ’tis with the young people nowadays, +they be so bold.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. [<i>Who has been +standing apart</i>, <i>her hand in that of</i> <span +class="smcap">Chris</span>.] New days, new ways, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Bless my soul, but +’tis hard to keep up with all these goings on, and no +mistake.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. No need for you to +try, John. If you are too old to run with us you must abide +still and watch us as we go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Chris</span>. But there, you +needn’t look downhearted, master, for I knows someone +as’ll give you a rare warm welcome if so be as you should +change your mind and take your chance in the open, same as +we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Tansie</span>. You shall pay for +that, Chris.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Stiffly</i>.] +I hope as I’ve a properer sense of my duty nor many others +what I could name.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. Those are the +first suitable words that have been spoken in my hearing this +afternoon.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">William</span>, <i>with</i> <span +class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>on his arm</i>, +<i>returns</i>. <span class="smcap">Laura</span> <i>carries +a small cucumber very lovingly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. Julia, look! The +first one of the season! O, isn’t it a picture!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Julia</span>. O Laura, ’tis a +fine wedding gift to be sure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. [<i>Stepping up +to</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>.] John, my man, +here’s a five pound note to your pocket. I’d +never have won this lady here if it hadn’t been for +you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Taking the +note</i>.] Don’t name it, dear master. +’Tis a long courtship what has no ending to it, so I always +says.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gardner</span>. ’Tis one +upset after another, but suppose you were to make yourself useful +for once, Susan, and bring out the tray with the cake and glasses +on it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, that’s it, +and I’ll go along of she and help draw the cider. +Courtship be powerful drying work.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Laura</span>. [<i>Looking into</i> +<span class="smcap">William’s</span> <i>eyes</i>.] O +William, ’twas those Early Snowballs that did first stir up +my heart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">William</span>. ’Twas John who +thought of them. Why, John has more sensible thoughts to +the mind of him than any other man in the world—and when +the cider is brought, ’tis to John’s health we will +all drink.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h2>PRINCESS ROYAL</h2> +<h3>CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>, <span +class="smcap">Marion</span>, <i>village girls</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span>, <i>her maid</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Leah</span>, <i>an old gipsy</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>, <i>otherwise Princess +Royal</i>, <i>her grand-daughter</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jockie</span>, <i>a little swine +herd</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>.</p> +<p><i>Her ladies in waiting</i> (<i>or one lady only</i>).</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>, <i>her only +son</i>.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p><i>As many girls as are needed for the dances should be in +this Play</i>.</p> +<p><i>The parts of Lord Cullen and Jockie may be played by +girls</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT I.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>A village green</i>. <i>Some girls with market +baskets come on to it</i>, <i>each one carrying a leaflet which +she is earnestly reading</i>.</p> +<p><i>Gradually all the girls approach from different sides +reading leaflets</i>.</p> +<p><i>Under a tree at the far end of the green the old gipsy is +sitting—she lights a pipe and begins to smoke as</i> <span +class="smcap">Rose</span>, <i>her basket full of market +produce</i>, <i>comes slowly forward reading her sheet of +paper</i>. <i>She is followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">Marion</span>—<i>also reading</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Well, ’tis like +to be a fine set out, this May Day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. I can make naught of +it myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Why, ’tis Lord +Cullen putting it about as how he be back from the war and +thinking of getting himself wed, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. I understands that +much, I do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Only he can’t +find the maid what he’s lost his heart to.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. +[<i>Reading</i>.] The wench what his lordship did see +a-dancing all by herself in the forest when he was hid one day +all among the brambles, a-rabbiting or sommat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. And when my lord would +have spoke with her, the maid did turn and fled away quick as a +weasel.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. And his lordship off +to the fighting when ’twas next morn.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. So now, each maid of us +in the village and all around be to dance upon the green come May +Day so that my lord may see who ’twas that pleased his +fancy.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>comes up and stands +quietly listening</i>. <i>She is bare foot and her skirt is +ragged</i>, <i>she wears a shawl over her shoulders and her hair +is rough and untidy</i>. <i>On her arm she carries a basket +containing a few vegetables and other marketings</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. And when he do pitch +upon the one, ’tis her as he will wed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. ’Twill be a thing +to sharpen the claws of th’ old countess worse nor +ever—that marriage.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. Ah, I reckon as her +be mortal angered with all the giddle-gaddle this business have +set up among the folk.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. +[<i>Regretfully</i>.] I’ve never danced among the +trees myself.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. [<i>Sadly</i>.] +Nor I, neither, Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I’d dearly like +to be a countess, Marion.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. His lordship might +think I was the maid. I’m spry upon my feet you +know.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>comes still +nearer</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. [<i>Turning to her +and speaking rudely</i>.] Well, Princess Rags, +’tisn’t likely as ’twas you a-dancing one of +your Morris dances in the wood that day!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. +[<i>Mockingly</i>.] ’Tisn’t likely as his +lordship would set his thoughts on a wench what could caper about +like a Morris man upon the high road. So there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. +[<i>Indifferently</i>.] I never danced upon the high road, +I dances only where ’tis dark with gloom and no eyes upon +me. No mortal eyes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. +[<i>Impudently</i>.] Get along with you, Princess +Royal. Go off to th’ old gipsy Gran’ma +yonder. We don’t want the likes of you along of +us.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Go off and dance to +your own animals, Miss Goatherd. All of us be a-going to +practise our steps against May Day. Come along girls.</p> +<p>[<i>She signs to the other girls who all draw near and arrange +themselves for a Country Dance</i>. <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>goes slowly towards her</i> <span +class="smcap">Grandmother</span> <i>and sits on the ground by her +side</i>, <i>looking sadly and wistfully at the +dancers</i>. <i>At the end of the dance</i>, <i>the girls +pick up their baskets and go off in different directions across +the green</i>. <span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>and +her</i> <span class="smcap">Grandmother</span> <i>remain in their +places</i>. <i>The gipsy continues to smoke and</i> <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>absently turns over the things in +her basket</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. They mock me in the +name they have fixed to me—Princess Royal.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. Let them +mock. I’ll bring the words back to them like +scorpions upon their tongues.</p> +<p>[<i>There is a little silence and then</i> <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>begins to sing as though to +herself</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. [<i>Singing</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">“As I walked out one May morning,<br /> +So early in the Spring;<br /> +I placed my back against the old garden gate,<br /> +And I heard my true love sing.” <a name="citation1"></a><a +href="#footnote1" class="citation">[1]</a></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. [<i>At the end +of the singing</i>.] It might be the blackcap a-warbling +all among of the branches. So it might.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Ah, ’twas I that +was a-dancing in the shade of the woods that day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. He’ll +never look on the likes of you—that’s sure enough, my +little wench.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I wish he was a +goat-herd like myself—O that I do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. Then there +wouldn’t be no use in your wedding yourself with him as I +can see.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. ’Tis himself, +not his riches that I want.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. You be speaking +foolishness. What do you know of him—what do us blind +worms know about the stars above we?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I see’d him pass +by upon his horse one day. All there was of him did shine +like the sun upon the water—I was very near dazed by the +brightness. So I was.</p> +<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Grandmother</span> +<i>continues to smoke in silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. [<i>Softly</i>.] +And ’twas then I lost the heart within me to him.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jockie</span> <i>runs up beating his +tabor</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. [<i>Springing +up</i>.] Come, Jockie, I have a mind to dance a step or +two. [<i>Rubbing her eyes with the back of her +hands</i>.] Tears be for them as have idle times and not +for poor wenches what mind cattle and goats. Come, play me +my own music, Jock. And play it as I do like it best.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jockie</span> <i>begins to play the tune +of</i> “<i>Princess Royal</i>” <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>dances</i>. <i>Whilst</i> +<span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>is dancing</i> <span +class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span> <i>and her waiting maid come +slowly by and stand watching</i>. <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>suddenly perceives them and throws +herself on the ground</i>. <span +class="smcap">Jockie</span> <i>stops playing</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. [<i>Fanning +herself</i>.] A wondrous bold dance, upon my +word—could it have been that which captivated my lord, +Alice?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span>. O no, mistress. +His lordship has no fancy for boldness in a maid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. Immodest +too. A Morris dance. The girl should hide her face in +shame.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span>. And there she is, +looking at your ladyship with her gipsy eyes, bold as a brass +farthing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. [<i>Starting up and +speaking passionately</i>.] I’ll not be taunted for +my dancing—I likes to dance wild, and leap with my body +when my spirit leaps, and fly with my limbs when my heart flies +and move in the air same as the birds do move when ’tis +mating time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. Ah, ’tis +so with she. She baint no tame mouse what creeps from its +hole along of t’others and who do go shuffle shuffle, in +and out of the ring, mild as milk and naught in the innards of +they but the squeak.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. +[<i>Defiantly</i>.] ’Twas my dance gained his +lordship’s praise—so there, fine madam.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. Your +dance? Who are you then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span>. A gipsy wench, +mistress, who minds the goats and pigs for one of they great +farms.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. Have a care for +that tongue of yours, madam waiting maid. For I know how to +lay sommat upon it what you won’t fancy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. [<i>Coming up +to</i> <span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>and laying her hand on +her arm</i>.] Now tell me your name, my girl.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. They call me Princess +Royal.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. O that must +be in jest. Why, you are clothed in rags, poor thing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. [<i>Shaking herself +free</i>.] I’d sooner wear my own rags nor the laces +which you have got upon you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. Now why do +you say such a thing?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. ’Twas in these +rags as I danced in the wood that day, and ’tis by these +rags as my lord will know me once more.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. Listen, I +will cover you in silk and laces, Princess Royal.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span>. Susan is the +maid’s name.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I don’t want +none of your laces or silks.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. And feed you +with poultry and cream and sweetmeats.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I want naught but my +crust of bread.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. I’ll +fill your hands with gold pieces.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. Do you hear +that, Sue?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. +[<i>Doggedly</i>.] I hear her well enough, Gran.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. If +you’ll teach me your dance against May Day. Then, +I’ll clothe myself much after your fashion and dance upon +the green with the rest.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I’ll not learn +you my dance. Not for all the gold in the world. You +shan’t go and take the only thing I have away from me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. +[<i>Angrily</i>.] Neither shall a little gipsy wretch like +you take my love from me. We were as good as promised to +each other at our christening.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span>. Don’t put +yourself out for the baggage, madam. His lordship would +never look on her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. Gold, did you +say, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. Gold? O +yes—an apron full of gold, and silver too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. Do you hear +that, Susan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. +[<i>Doggedly</i>.] I’ll not do it for a King’s +ransom.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. You will. +You’ll do it for the sake of poor old Gran, what’s +been father and mother to you—and what’s gone +hungered and thirsty so that you might have bread and drink.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. +[<i>Distractedly</i>.] O I can never give him up.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. He’ll +never be yourn to give—Dance till your legs is off and +he’ll have naught to say to a gipsy brat when ’tis +all finished.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span>. Whilst my lady belongs +to his lordship’s own class, ’tis but suitable as she +should be the one to wed with him—knowing the foreign +tongues and all, and playing so sweetly on her instruments. +There’s a lady anyone would be proud to take before the +Court in London.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>turns away with a +movement of despair</i>. <i>The</i> <span +class="smcap">Grandmother</span> <i>begins to smoke +again</i>. <span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span> +<i>fans herself and</i> <span class="smcap">Alice</span> +<i>arranges her own shawl</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. I could do with +a little pig up at our place if I’d the silver to take into +the market for to buy him with. [<i>A silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. And I could do +with a pair of good shoes to my poor old feet come winter time +when ’tis snowing. [<i>Another silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. And +’twould be good not to go to bed with the pain of hunger +within my lean old body—so ’twould. [<span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>turns round suddenly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I’ll do it, +Gran. I’ll do it for your sake. ’Tis very +likely true what you do say, all of you. I’d but +dance my feet off for naught. When he came to look into my +gipsy eyes, ’twould all be over and done with.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. Sensible +girl.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span>. ’Tis time she +should see which way her bread was spread.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Come, Jockie, come +ladies—come Gran—we’ll be off to the quiet of +our own place where I can learn her ladyship the steps and +capers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. [<i>Rising and +pointing to an advancing figure</i>.] You’d best make +haste. The mice be a-running from their holes once +more—t’wouldn’t do for they to know aught about +this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. Let us go quickly +then.</p> +<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>, <span +class="smcap">Susan</span>, <span class="smcap">Lady +Millicent</span> <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Alice</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Jockie</span> <i>go out as a crowd +of village girls come on to the green</i>, <i>and laughing and +talking together</i>, <i>arrange themselves to practise a Country +Dance</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>End of Act I</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>Groups of village girls are sitting or standing about on +the green</i>. <i>A dais has been put up at one end of +it</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. How slow the time do +pass, this May Day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Let’s while it +away with a song or two.</p> +<p>[<i>They all join in singing</i>. <i>At the end of the +song the gipsy comes slowly and painfully across the green</i>, +<i>casting black looks to right and to left</i>. <i>She is +followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Susan</span>, <i>who appears +weighed down by sadness</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Good afternoon, +Princess Royal Rags. Are we to see you cutting capers +before his lordship this afternoon?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. Get along and hide +your bare feet behind the tree, Royal. I’d be ashamed +to go without shoes if ’twas me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. O leave me +alone—you be worse nor a nest of waspes—that you +be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. [<i>Turning +fiercely round</i>.] Us’ll smoke them out of their +holes one day—see if us do not.</p> +<p>[<i>They pass over to the tree where the</i> <span +class="smcap">Grandmother</span> <i>sits down and</i> <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>crouches by her side</i>. +<i>Presently they are joined by</i> <span +class="smcap">Jockie</span>. <i>The girls sing a verse or +two of another song</i>, <i>and during this</i> <span +class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>, <i>enveloped in a big +cloak</i>, <i>goes over to the tree</i>, <i>followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">Alice</span>, <i>also wearing a long cloak and they +sit down by the side of</i> <span class="smcap">Susan</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. +[<i>Pointing</i>.] Who are those yonder, Rose?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I’m sure I +don’t know, Marion—strangers, may be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. O my heart goes wild +this afternoon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Mine too. Look, +there they come.</p> +<p>[<i>The Music begins to play and old</i> <span +class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>, <i>followed by her lady +companions</i>, <i>comes slowly towards the dais</i>, <i>on which +she seats herself</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>. Dear me, what a +gathering to be sure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Her Lady</span>. Indeed it is an +unusual sight.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>. And O what a sad +infatuation on the part of my poor boy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Her Lady</span>. The war has been +known to turn many a brain.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>. And yet my son +holds his own with the brightest intelligences of the day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Her Lady</span>. Only one little +spot of his lordship’s brain seems to be affected.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>. Just so. +But here he comes, poor misguided youth.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span> <i>comes slowly over +the green</i>, <i>looking to right and to left</i>. <i>He +mounts the dais and sits down by his mother</i>, <i>and the music +plays for a country dance</i>. “<i>The Twenty Ninth +of May</i>.” <i>The girls arrange themselves</i>, +<i>and during the dance</i> <span class="smcap">Lord +Cullen</span> <i>scans each face very eagerly</i>. <i>The +dance ends and the girls pass in single file before the +dais</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. No, +no—that was not the music of it, that was not the +dance—not a face among them resembles the image I carry in +my heart.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>. +[<i>Aside</i>.] Thank goodness. May that face never +be seen again.</p> +<p>[<i>A fresh group come up and another dance is formed and +danced</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. [<i>At the end +of it</i>.] Worse and worse. Could I have dreamed +both the music and the dance and the dancer?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>. +[<i>Soothingly</i>.] I am sure this was the case, my dear +son.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. +[<i>Rallying</i>.] I heard her voice singing in the forest +before ever she began to dance. It was the sweetest voice +and song I ever heard. [<i>Looking around</i>.] Can +any of these maid, sing to me, I wonder?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. [<i>Steps +forward</i>.] I only know one song, my lord.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span> <i>signs to her to +sing</i>, <i>and she stands before the dais and sings a verse +of</i> “<i>Bedlam</i>.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. +[<i>Impatiently</i>.] No, no—that is not in the least +what I remember. [<i>Turning to</i> <span +class="smcap">Rose</span>.] You try now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I don’t sing, my +lord—but—[<i>Indicating another girl in the +group</i>] she has a sweet voice, and she knows a powerful lot of +songs.</p> +<p>[<i>A girl steps out from the others and sings a verse of</i> +“<i>The Lark in the Morn</i>.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. Not that. +Mine was a song to stir the depths of a man’s heart and +bring tears up from the fountains of it.</p> +<p>[<i>He leans back in deep dejection—and at this +moment</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Alice</span> <i>come forward</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. +[<i>Eagerly</i>.] I seem to know that russet +skirt—those bare, small feet. [<i>Standing up +quickly</i>.] Mother, look at that maid with the red +kerchief on her head.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>. Some sort of a +gipsy dress, to all appearance.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. +[<i>Doubtfully</i>.] The skirt she wore was torn and +ragged—that day in the forest. She had no gold rings +to her ears, nor silken scarf upon her head—But this might +be her dress for holidays.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jockie</span> <i>advances and begins to +play the tune of</i> “<i>Princess Royal</i>.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. +[<i>Eagerly</i>.] That is the right music—O is it +possible my quest is ended!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Alice</span>, <i>standing opposite one to another +begin to dance—slowly and clumsily</i>, <i>and in evident +doubt as to their steps</i>. <span class="smcap">Lord +Cullen</span> <i>watches them for a moment and then claps his +hands angrily as a sign for the music to stop</i>. <i>The +dancers pause</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. This is a sad +mimicry of my beautiful love. But there lies something +behind the masquerade which I shall probe.</p> +<p>[<i>He leaves the dais and goes straight towards</i> <span +class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>, <i>who turns from him in +confusion</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. From whom did +you take the manner and the colour of your garments, my maid?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span> <i>remains +obstinately silent</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Alice</span>.] Perhaps you have a tongue in +your head. From whom did you try to learn those steps?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Alice</span> <i>turns sulkily +away</i>. <span class="smcap">Jockie</span> <i>comes +forward</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jockie</span>. I’ll tell your +lordship all about it, and I’ll take your lordship straight +to the right wench, that I will, if so be as your lordship will +give a shilling to a poor little swine-herd what goes empty and +hungered most of the year round.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. A handful of +gold, my boy, if you lead me rightly.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jockie</span> <i>leads the way to the +tree where</i> <span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>is +sitting</i>. <i>She stands up as</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span> <i>approaches</i>, <i>and for a +moment they gaze at one another in silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. You might +curtsey to the gentleman, Susan.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. +No—there’s no need of that, from her to me. +[<i>Turning to</i> <span class="smcap">Jockie</span> <i>and +putting his hand in his pocket</i>.] Here, my boy, is a +golden pound for you—and more shall follow later.</p> +<p>[<i>He then takes</i> <span class="smcap">Susan’s</span> +<i>hand and leads her to the foot of the dais</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. Will you dance +for me again, Susan?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Several of the Girls</span>. +[<i>Mockingly</i>.] Princess Royal is her name.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. +[<i>Rudely</i>.] Or Princess Rags.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. ’Tis all took +out of my hands now, I can but do as your lordship says. +Jockie, play me my music, and play it bravely too.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jockie</span> <i>places himself near her +and begins to play</i>. <span class="smcap">Susan</span> +<i>dances by herself</i>. <i>At the end of her dance</i> +<span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span> <i>leads the applause</i>, +<i>and even the ladies on the dais join faintly in it</i>. +<i>He then takes</i> <span class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>by the +hand and mounts the dais with her and presents her to his +mother</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span>. [<i>Aside</i>, +<i>to her companion</i>.] I wonder if the young person +understands that my poor boy is a little touched in the +brain?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. Here is your +daughter, mother.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>look at one another in +silence</i>. <i>After a moment</i> <span +class="smcap">Susan</span> <i>turns to</i> <span +class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Susan</span>. I’m a poor +ragged thing to be daughter to the likes of she. But the +heart within of me is grander nor that of any queen, because of +the love that it holds for you, my lord.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span> <i>takes her hand and +leads her to the front of the dais</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>. We will be +married to-morrow, my princess. And all these good people +shall dance at our wedding.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Marion</span>. [<i>Springing +up</i>.] And we’ll do a bit of dancing now as +well. Come, Jockie, give us the tune of “Haste to the +Wedding.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. That’s it. +Come girls—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lady Millicent</span>. [<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">Alice</span>.] I pray he won’t +find out about me.</p> +<p>[<i>The old</i> <span class="smcap">Grandmother</span> <i>has +come slowly towards the middle of the green</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Grandmother</span>. Ah, and my +little wench will know how to pay back some of the vipers tongues +which slandered her, when she sits on her velvet chair as a +countess, the diamonds a-trickling from her neck and the rubies +a-crowning of her head. Her’ll not forget the snakes +what did lie in the grass. Her’ll have her heel upon +they, so that their heads be put low and there shan’t go no +more venom from their great jaws to harm she, my pretty +lamb—my little turtle.</p> +<p>[<i>The music begins to play and all those on the green form +themselves for the dance</i>. <span class="smcap">Lord +Cullen</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Susan</span> +<i>stand side by side in front of the dais</i>, <i>and the</i> +<span class="smcap">Grandmother</span> <i>lights a pipe and +smokes it as she watches the dance from below</i>. <i>At +the end of the dance</i> <span class="smcap">Lord Cullen</span>, +<i>leading</i> <span class="smcap">Susan</span>, <i>comes down +from the dais and</i>, <i>followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">Lady Cullen</span> <i>and her ladies</i>, <i>passes +between two lines of girls and so off the stage</i>. <i>The +girls follow in procession</i>, <i>and lastly the</i> <span +class="smcap">Grandmother</span> <i>preceded by</i> <span +class="smcap">Jockie</span>, <i>beating his drum</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>Curtain</i>.]</p> +<h2>THE SEEDS OF LOVE</h2> +<h3>CHARACTERS</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">John Daniel</span>, <i>aged</i> 30, <i>a +Miller</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose-Anna</span> <i>his sister</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>, <i>aged</i> 16, <i>his +sister</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert Pearce</span>, <i>aged</i> 26.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>, <span +class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>elderly cousins of Robert</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>, <i>John’s +servant—of middle age</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary Meadows</span>, <i>aged</i> 24, <i>a +Herbalist</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The time is Midsummer</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT I</h3> +<p><i>A woodland road outside</i> <span +class="smcap">Mary’s</span> <i>cottage</i>. <i>There +are rough seats in the porch and in front of the +window</i>. <i>Bunches of leaves and herbs hang drying +around door and window</i>. <span class="smcap">Mary</span> +<i>is heard singing within</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Singing</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">I sowed the seeds of Love,<br /> +And I sowed them in the Spring.<br /> +I gathered them up in the morning so soon.<br /> +While the sweet birds so sweetly sing,<br /> +While the sweet birds so sweetly sing. <a name="citation2"></a><a +href="#footnote2" class="citation">[2]</a></p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>comes out of the +cottage</i>, <i>a bundle of enchanter’s nightshade in her +arms</i>. <i>She hangs it by a string to the wall and then +goes indoors</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Singing</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">The violet I did not like,<br /> +Because it bloomed so soon;<br /> +The lily and the pink I really over think,<br /> +So I vowed I would wait till June,<br /> +So I vowed I would wait till June.</p> +<p>[<i>During the singing</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> +<i>comes slowly and heavily along the road</i>. <i>He wears +the dress of a farm labourer and carries a scythe over his +shoulder</i>. <i>In front of the cottage he pauses</i>, +<i>looks round doubtfully</i>, <i>and then sits stiffly and +wearily down on the bench beneath the window</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Coming to the +doorway with more plants and singing</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">“For the grass that has oftentimes been +trampled underfoot,<br /> +Give it time, it will rise up again.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>Looking up +gloomily</i>.] And that it won’t, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Suddenly perceiving +him and coming out</i>.] O you are fair spent from +journeying. Can I do anything for you, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>Gazing at her +fixedly</i>.] You speak kindly for a stranger, but +’tis beyond the power of you nor anyone to do aught for +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Sitting down beside +him and pointing to the wall of the house</i>.] See those +leaves and flowers drying in the sun? There’s +medicine for every sort of sickness there, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. There’s not a +root nor yet a herb on the face of the earth that could cure the +sickness I have within me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. That must be a terrible +sort of a sickness, master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. So ’tis. +’Tis love.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Love?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. Yes, love; wicked, +unhappy love. Love what played false when riches +fled. Love that has given the heart what was all mine to +another.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>has been slowly +approaching</i>, <i>she wears a cotton handkerchief over her head +and carries a small bundle tied up in a cloth on her +arm</i>. <i>Her movements are languid and sad</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. I know of flowers that +can heal even the pains of love.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Coming forward +and speaking earnestly</i>.] O tell me of them quickly, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Why, are you sick of +the same complaint?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Sinking down on +the grass at</i> <span class="smcap">Mary’s</span> +<i>feet</i>.] So bruised and wounded in the heart that the +road from Framilode up here might well have been a hundred miles +or more.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. Framilode? +’Tis there you come from?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. I was servant at the +inn down yonder. Close upon the ferry. Do you know +the place, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>In deep +gloom</i>.] Ah, the place and the ferry man too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Leaning forward and +clasping her hands</i>.] Him as is there to-day, or him who +was?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. He who was there and +left for foreign parts a good three year ago.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>covers her face and is +shaken by sobs</i>. <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> +<i>leans his elbow on his knee</i>, <i>shading his eyes with his +hand</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. I have help for all +torments in my flowers. Such things be given us for +that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Looking +up</i>.] You be gentle in your voices mistress. +’Tis like when a quist do sing, as you speaks.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Then do both of you +tell your sorrow. ’Twill be strange if I do not find +sommat that will lighten your burdens for you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. ’Twas at Moat +Farm I was born and bred.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Close up to Daniels +yonder?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. The same. +Rose-Anna of the Mill and I—we courted and was like to +marry. But there came misfortune and I lost my all. +She would not take a poor man, so I left these parts and got to +be what you do see me now—just a day labourer.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. Mine, ’tis the +same tale, very nigh. Robert the ferry-man and me, we loved +and was to have got us wedded, only there came a powerful rich +gentleman what used to go fishing along of Robert. +’Twas he that ’ticed my lover off to foreign +parts.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>With a heavy +sigh</i>.] These things are almost more than I can +bear.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. At first he wrote his +letters very often. Then ’twas seldom like. +Then ’twas never. And then there comed a +day—[<i>She is interrupted by her weeping</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Try to get out your +story—you can let the tears run afterwards if you have a +mind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. There comed a day +when I did meet a fisherman from Bristol. He brought me +news of Robert back from the seas, clothed in fine stuff with +money in the pockets of him, horse and carriage, and just about +to wed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. Did he name the +maid?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. Rose-Anna she was +called, of Daniel’s mill up yonder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. Rose-Anna—She +with whom I was to have gone to church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Here is a tangle worse +nor any briar rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. O ’twas such +beautiful times as we did have down by the riverside, him and +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. She would sit, her +hand in mine by the hour of a Sunday afternoon.</p> +<p>[<i>A pause during which</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>seem lost in +their own sad memories</i>. <span class="smcap">Mary</span> +<i>gets up softly and goes within the cottage</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. And when I heared as +’twas to-morrow they were to wed, though ’twas like +driving a knife deeper within the heart of me, I up and got me +upon the road and did travel along by starlight and dawn and day +just for one look upon his face again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. ’Twas so with +me. From beyond Oxford town I am come to hurt myself worse +than ever, by one sight of the eyes that have looked so cruel +false into mine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. If I was to plead +upon my knees to him ’twould do no good—poor wench of +a serving maid like me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>Looking down at +himself</i>.] She’d spurn me from the door were I to +stand there knocking—in the coat I have upon me now. +No—let her go her way and wed her fancy man.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>shades his eyes with one +hand</i>. <span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>bows her +head on her knees weeping</i>. <span +class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>comes out of the house carrying two +glass bowls of water</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Leave your sorrowful +tears till later, my friends. This fresh water from the +spring will revive you from your travelling.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>Looking +up</i>.] The heart of me is stricken past all remedy, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. I could well lie me +down and die.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>giving to each one a bowl +from which they begin to drink slowly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. I spoke as you do, +once. My lover passed me by for another. A man may +give all his love to the gilly flower, but ’tis the scarlet +rose as takes his fancy come to-morrow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. And has your heart +recovered from its sickness, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Slowly</i>.] +After many years.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. And could you wed you +to another?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Still more +slowly</i>.] Give the grass that has been trampled +underfoot a bit of time, ’twill rise again. +There’s healing all around of us for every ill, did we but +know it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. I’d give sommat +to know where ’tis then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. There isn’t a +herb nor a leaf but what carries its message to them that are in +pain.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. Give me a bloom +that’ll put me to sleep for always, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. There’s evil +plants as well, but ’tisn’t a many. +There’s hen bane which do kill the fowls and fishes if they +eat the seed of it. And there’s water hemlock which +lays dumbness upon man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. I’ve heard them +tell of that, I have.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. And of the good leaves +there is hounds tongue. Wear it at the feet of you against +dogs what be savage. Herb Benet you nail upon the +door. No witch nor evil thing can enter to your house.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. And have you naught +that can deaden the stab of love upon the heart, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Speaking in +anguish</i>.] Aught that can turn our faithless lovers back +again to we?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. That I have. See +these small packages—you that love Robert, take you +this—and you who courted Rose-Anna, stretch out your +hand.</p> +<p>[<i>She puts a small paper packet into the hands of +each</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>Looking +uncertainly at his packet</i>.] What’ll this do for +me, I’d like to know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. ’Tis an unfailing +charm. A powder from roses, fine as dust, and another seed +as well. You put it in her glass of water—and the +love comes back to you afore next sun-rise.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. And will it be the +same with I?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. You have the Herb of +Robert there. Be careful of it. To-morrow at this +hour, his heart will be all yours again, and you shall do what +you will with it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. O I can’t +believe in this. ’Tis too good to be true, and that +it be—A fine gentleman as Robert be now and a poor little +wretch like me!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>Slowly</i>.] +’Tis but a foolish dream like. How are folks like us +to get mixing and messing with the drinks of they? Time was +when I did sit and eat along of them at the table, the same as +one of theirselves. But now! Why, they’d take +and hound me away from the door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. And me too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Breaking off a +spray of the enchanters nightshade from the bunch +drying</i>.] That’ll bring luck, may be.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>takes it and puts it in +her dress and then wraps the packet in her bundle</i>. +<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>puts his packet away +also</i>. <i>Whilst they are doing this</i>, <span +class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>strolls a little way on the +road</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. +[<i>Returning</i>.] The man from Daniels be coming +along.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. +[<i>Hastily</i>.] What, old Andrews?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. No. This is +another. Folk do marvel how Miller John do have the +patience to keep in with him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. How’s that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. So slow and heavy in +his ways. But he can drink longer at the cider than any man +in the county afore it do fly to his head, and that’s why +master do put up with him.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>comes heavily towards +them</i>, <i>a straw in his mouth</i>. <i>His hat is pushed +to the back of his head</i>. <i>His expression is still and +impassive</i>. <i>He comes straight towards</i> <span +class="smcap">Mary</span>, <i>then halts</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Come, Jeremy, I reckon +’tis not for rue nor tea of marjoram you be come here this +morning?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Looking coldly +and critically at the travellers and pointing to them</i>.] +Who be they?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Travellers on the road, +seeking a bit of rest.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>continues to look them +all over in silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. How be things going at +the Mill to-day, Jerry?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Powerful bad.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. O I am grieved to hear +of it. What has happened?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>lean forward</i>, <i>listening +eagerly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. ’Tis a pretty +caddle, that’s all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. The mistress +isn’t took ill? or Miss Kitty?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I almost wish they +was, for then there wouldn’t be none of this here marrying +to-morrow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. What has upset you +against the wedding, Jerry?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. One pair of hands +baint enough for such goings on.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. ’Tis three +you’ve got up there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. There you’re +mistook. Th’ idle wench and the lad be both +away—off afore dawn to the Fair and took their clothes +along of they. I be left with all upon me like, and +’tis too much.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. What shall you do, +Jerry?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I’ll be blowed +if I’m agoin’ to do anything. There.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. But you’ll have +to stir yourself up and deck the house and set the table and wait +upon the visitors and look to the traps and horses and all, +Jerry—seeing as you’re the only one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I’ll not. +I’m not one as steps beyond my own work, and master do know +it too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Then how are they going +to manage?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I’m out to find +them as’ll manage for them. [<i>Turning sharply +to</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span>.] Be you in search +of work, young man?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. I—I count as +I’ve nothing particular in view.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Turning to</i> +<span class="smcap">Isabel</span>.] And you, wench?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. +[<i>Faintly</i>.] I’ve gone from the place where I +was servant.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Then you’ll +come along of me—the both of you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. +[<i>Shrinking</i>.] O no—I couldn’t go +among—among strangers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I never takes no +count of a female’s vapours. You’ll come along +of me. You’ll curl the mistress’s hair and lace +her gown and keep her tongue quiet—and you [<i>turning +to</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span>] my man, will set the +tables and wait upon the quality what we expect from Bristol town +this dinner-time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. +[<i>Angrily</i>.] I never waited on man nor woman in my +life, and I’ll not start now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. You will. +I’m not agoin’ a half mile further this warm +morning. Back to the Mill you goes along of me, the two of +you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Looking fixedly +at</i> <span class="smcap">Isabel</span>.] This is a chance +for you, my dear. You’ll not find a better.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Better? I count +as you’ll not better this’n. Good money for +your pains—victuals to stuff you proper, and cider, all you +can drink on a summer’s day. I count you’ll not +better that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>As though to +himself</i>.] I could not go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Some cattle want a +lot of driving.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Timidly to</i> +<span class="smcap">Lubin</span>.] If I go, could not you +try and come along with me, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. You’ll never +have the heart to go through with it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. ’Tis a fine fat +heart as her has within of she. Don’t you go and put +fancies into the head of her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span>.] I’ll go if so be as +you’ll come along of me too.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>bends his head and +remains thinking deeply</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. ’Tis thirsty +work this hiring of men and wenches—I’ll get me a +drop of cider down at the Red Bull. Mayhap you’ll be +ready time I’ve finished.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. I’ll see that +you’re not kept waiting, Jeremy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Turning back +after he has started</i>.] What be they called, Mary?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>looks doubtfully +towards</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. My name—they +calls me Isabel.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Turning to</i> +<span class="smcap">Lubin</span>.] And yourn?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>In +confusion</i>.] I don’t rightly recollect.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. +[<i>Impassively</i>.] ’Tis of no account, us’ll +call you William like the last one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. O, and couldn’t +I be called like the last one too?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Then us’ll call +you Lucy. And a rare bad slut her was, and doubtless +you’ll not prove much worser.</p> +<p>[<i>He goes away</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. This is your +chance. A good chance too—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. They’ll know the +both of us. Love isn’t never quite so dead but what a +sound in the speech or a movement of the hand will bring some +breath to it again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. You’re right +there, master—sommat’ll stir in the hearts of them +when they sees we—and ’tis from the door as +us’ll be chased for masking on them like this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. But not before the +seeds of love have done their work. Come, Isabel; come, +Lubin—I will so dress you that you shall not be +recognised.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>goes indoors</i>. +<span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>slowly rises and takes up +her bundle</i>. <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>remains +seated</i>, <i>looking gloomily before him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. Come, think what +’twill feel to be along of our dear loves and look upon the +forms of them and hear the notes of their voices once again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. That’s what I am +a-thinking of. ’Twill be hot iron drove right into +the heart all the while. Ah, that’s about it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. I’ll gladly +bear the pain.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>After a +pause</i>.] Then so will I. We’ll go.</p> +<p>[<i>He raises his eyes to her face and then gets heavily up +and follows her into the cottage</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>The living room at Daniel’s Mill</i>. <i>In the +window</i> <span class="smcap">Rose-Anna</span> <i>is seated +awkwardly sewing some bright ribbons on to a muslin +gown</i>. <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> <i>is moving +about rapidly dusting chairs and ornaments which are in disorder +about the room and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>stands +with his back to the grate gravely surveying them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. +[<i>Petulantly</i>.] Whatever shall we do, John! Me +not dressed, everything no how, and them expected in less nor a +half hour’s time?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. There! +I’ve finished a-dusting the chairs. Now I’ll +set them in their places.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. No one is thinking of +me! Who’s going to help me on with my gown and curl +my hair like Robert was used to seeing me wear it at +Aunt’s?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. Did you have it +different down at Bristol, Rose?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Of course I did. +’Twouldn’t do to be countrified in the town.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Your hair’s well +enough like that. ’Tisn’t of hair as +anyone’ll be thinking when they comes in, but of +victuals. And how we’re a-going to get the table and +all fixed up in so short a time do fairly puzzle me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. I’ll do the +table.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. No. You’ve +got to help me with my gown. O that was a good-for-nothing +baggage, leaving us in the lurch!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Well, I’ve done +my best to get us out of the fix.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. And what would that be, +pray?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. Why John, you’ve +done nothing but stand with your back to the grate this last +hour.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’ve sent off +Jerry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. +[<i>Scornfully</i>.] Much good that’ll do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. We know just how far +Jerry will have gone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I told him not to shew +hisself unless he could bring a couple of servants back along +with him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Angrily</i>.] +You’re more foolish than I took you to be, John. Get +you off at once and fetch Jerry from his cider at the Red +Bull. He’s not much of a hand about the house, but +he’s better than no one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Sighing +heavily</i>.] Jeremy’s not the man to start his +drinking so early in the day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I’ve caught him +at the cask soon after dawn.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. And so have I, +John. How you put up with his independent ways I +don’t know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, ’tisn’t +everyone as has such a powerful strong head as +Jerry’s. He’s one that can be trusted to take +his fill, and none the worse with him afterwards.</p> +<p>[<i>A knock at the door</i>, <i>which is pushed open by</i> +<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>From the +doorway</i>.] Well, Master John—well, mistress?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Sharply</i>.] +Master was just starting out for to fetch you home, Jerry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Ignoring +her</i>.] Well, master, I’ve brought a couple back +along of me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Ducklings or +chickens?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I’ve gotten +them too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. Do you mean that +you’ve found some servants for us, Jerry?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Two outside. +Female and male.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Didn’t I tell you +so! There’s naught that Jerry cannot do. +You’ll have a drink for this, my man</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. You may take my word +he’s had that already, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I have, +mistress. Whilst they was a packing up the poultry in my +basket. Down at the Bull.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. What sort of a maid is +it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Ah, ’tis for +you to tell me that, mistress, when you’ve had her along of +you a bit.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. And the man?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Much the same as any +other male.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. +[<i>Impatiently</i>.] Do you step outside, John, and have a +look at them, and if they’re suitable bring them in and +we’ll set them about their work.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>goes out</i>. <span +class="smcap">Kitty</span> <i>peers through the window</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I reckon I can go off +and feed the hilts now. ’Tis the time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Feed the hilts! +Indeed you can’t do no such thing. O I’m mad +with vexation that nothing is well ordered or suitably prepared +for Mr. Robert and his fine cousins from Bristol town. +Whatever will they say to such a house when they do see it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I’m sure I +don’t know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. [<i>From the +window</i>.] I see the new servants. John is bringing +them up the walk. The man’s face is hid by his broad +hat, but the girl looks neat enough in her cotton gown and +sun-bonnet.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes into the room</i>, +<i>followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>shuffles off his hat</i>, <i>but +holds it between his face and the people in the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Pointing to them +and speaking to</i> <span class="smcap">Rose</span>.] There +you are, mistress—man-servant and maid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. What do we know about +them? Folk picked up by Jerry at the Red Bull.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. No, from the +roadside.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Worser far.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. No, no, Rose. +These young persons were spoken for by Mary Meadows. And +’tis rare fortunate for we to obtain their services at +short notice like this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span>.] What are you called, my +girl?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. +[<i>Faintly</i>.] Isabel is my name, but I’d sooner +you called me Lucy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. And that I will. +My tongue is used to Lucy. The other is a flighty, fanciful +name for a servant.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. And what is the man +called, John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. +[<i>Harshly</i>.] I am called William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. William and +Lucy! Like the ones that ran away this morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. O do not let us waste +any more time! Jerry, do you take the man and shew him his +work in the back kitchen; and Lucy, come to me and help me with +my gown and my hair dressing. We have not a minute to +lose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. They may be upon us +any time now. I’ll go out and gather the flowers for +the parlour, since you don’t want me any more within, +Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And I’ll get and +finish Jeremy’s work in the yard. ’Tis upside +down and round about and no how to-day. But we’ll +come out of it some time afore next year I reckon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Don’t you ever +go for to get married, master. There could never come a +worser caddle into a man’s days nor matrimony, I count.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>on his way to the +door</i>, <i>pauses—as though momentarily lost in +thought</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Was Mary Meadows asked +to drop in at any time to-day, Rose?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Who is taking up +her gown and ribbons to show to</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span>, <i>and speaking crossly</i>.] +I’m sure I don’t know, nor care. I’ve +enough to think about as ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">John’s</span> <i>arm playfully</i>.] +You’re terribly took up with Mary Meadows, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. There isn’t many +like her, Kitty. She do rear herself above t’others +as—as a good wheat stalk from out the rubbish.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Kitty</span> <i>go slowly out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>As though to +himself</i>.] I sees as how I shall have to keep an eye on +master—[<i>turning to</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> +<i>and signing to him</i>.] But come, my man, us has no +time for romance, ’tis dish washing as lies afore you +now.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>jerks his head haughtily +and makes a protesting gesture</i>. <i>Then he seems to +remember himself and follows</i> <span +class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>humbly from the room</i>. +<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>takes up some ribbons and +laces</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span>, <i>who is standing near</i>.] +Now, Lucy, we must look sharp; Mister Robert and his cousins from +Bristol town will soon be here. I have not met with the +cousins yet, but I’ve been told as they’re very fine +ladies—They stood in place of parents to my Robert, you +know. ’Tis unfortunate we should be in such a sad +muddle the day they come.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. When I have helped +you into your gown, mistress, I shall soon have the dinner spread +and all in order. I be used to such work, and I’m +considered spry upon my feet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. ’Tis more serious +that you should be able to curl my hair in the way that Mr. +Robert likes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Sadly</i>.] +I don’t doubt but that I shall be able to do that too, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Very well. Take +the gown and come with me up to my room.</p> +<p>[<i>They go out together</i>, <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>carrying the gown</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 2.</h3> +<p><i>The same room</i>. <i>The table is laid for dinner +and</i> <span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>is putting flowers +upon it</i>. <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>wearing +his hat</i>, <i>enters with large jugs of cider</i>, <i>which he +sets upon a side table</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Looking up from +her work</i>.] Shall us ever have the heart to go on with +it, Master Lubin?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. +[<i>Bitterly</i>.] Do not you “Master” me, +Isabel. I’m only a common servant in the house where +once I was lover and almost brother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Coming up to +him</i>.] O do not take it so hard, Lubin—Us can do +naught at this pass but trust what the young woman did tell +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. +[<i>Gloomily</i>.] The sight of Rose has stirred up my love +so powerful that I do hardly know how to hold the tears back from +my eyes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Pressing her eyes +with her apron</i>.] What’ll it be for me when Robert +comes in?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. We’ll have to +help one another, Isabel, in the plight where we stand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. That’s +it. And perchance as them seeds’ll do the rest.</p> +<p>[<i>They spring apart as a sound of voices and laughter is +heard outside</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. [<i>Runs +in</i>.] They’ve come. All of them. And +do you know that Robert’s cousins are no fine ladies at +all, as he said, but just two common old women dressed +grand-like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. That will be a sad +shock to poor mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. O, she is too much +taken up with Mister Robert to notice yet. But quick! +They are all sharp set from the drive. Fetch in the dishes, +William and Lucy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. All shall be ready in +a moment, Miss Kitty.</p> +<p>[<i>She goes hurriedly out followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span>. <span +class="smcap">Kitty</span> <i>glances round the room and then +stands at the side of the front door</i>. <span +class="smcap">John</span>, <i>giving an arm to each of</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert’s</span> <i>cousins</i>, +<i>enters</i>. <i>The cousins are dressed in coloured +flowered dresses</i>, <i>and wear bonnets that are heavy with +bright plumes</i>. <i>They look cumbered and ill at ease in +their clothes</i>, <i>and carry their sunshades and gloves +awkwardly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. [<i>Looking round +her</i>.] Very comfortable, I’m sure. But I +count as that there old-fashioned grate do take a rare bit of +elbow grease.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Very pleasant +indeed. But I didn’t reckon as the room would be +quite the shape as ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Come to that, I +didn’t expect the house to look as it do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Very ancient in +appearance, I’m sure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Ah, the house has done +well enough for me and my father and grandfather afore me.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Rose</span>, <i>very grandly dressed</i>, +<i>comes in hanging on</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert’s</span> <i>arm</i>. <span +class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>is clothed in the fashion of the +town</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Please to remove your +bonnet, Miss Eliza. Please to remove yours, Miss Jane.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. +[<i>Heartily</i>.] Ah, that’s so—’Twill +be more homely like for eating.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. There’s a glass +upon the wall.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. I prefer to remain as I +be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Sister and me have our +caps packed up in the tin box.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. [<i>Bringing the tin +box from the doorway</i>.] Shall I take you upstairs to +change? Dinner’s not quite ready yet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. That will suit us best, +I’m sure. Come, sister.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Kitty</span> <i>leads the way out</i>, +<i>followed by both sisters</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’ll just step +outside and see that Jerry’s tending to the horse.</p> +<p>[<i>He hurries out</i>, <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>is left alone with</i> <span +class="smcap">Rose</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Coming towards him +and holding out her hands</i>.] O, Robert, is it the same +between us as it was last time?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. [<i>Looking at her +critically</i>.] You’ve got your hair different or +something.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Putting her hand to +her head</i>.] The new maid. A stupid country +wench.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. You’ve got my +meaning wrong. ’Tis that I’ve never seen you +look so well before.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. O dear Robert!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. You’ve got my +fancy more than ever, Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. O, I’m so happy +to be going off with you to-morrow, and I love it down at +Bristol. Robert, I’m tired and sick of country +life.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. We’ll make a +grand fine lady of you there, Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>A little +sharply</i>.] Am I not one in looks already, Robert?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. You’re what I +do dote upon. I can’t say no more.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>enter carrying dishes</i>, +<i>which they set upon the table</i>. <span +class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>turn their backs to them and look +out into the garden</i>. <i>The staircase door is +opened</i>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Liz</span>, <span +class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Kitty</span> <i>come into the room</i>. <span +class="smcap">Liz</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>are wearing gaudy caps trimmed with +violet and green ribbons</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. We’ll sit down, +now. John won’t be a moment before he’s +here.</p> +<p>[<i>She sits down at one end of the table and signs to</i> +<span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>to place himself next to +her</i>. <i>The sisters and</i> <span +class="smcap">Kitty</span> <i>seat themselves</i>. <span +class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes hurriedly in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That’s +right. Everyone in their places? But no cover laid +for Mary?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. +[<i>Carelessly</i>.] We can soon have one put, should she +take it into her head to drop in.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That’s it. +Now ladies, now Robert—’tis thirsty work a-driving +upon the Bristol road at midsummer. We’ll lead off +with a drink of home-made cider. The eating’ll come +sweeter afterwards.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. That’s it, +Miller.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>come forward and take the cider +mugs from each place to the side table</i>, <i>where</i> <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>fills them from a large +jug</i>. <i>In the mugs of</i> <span +class="smcap">Rose-Anna</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span>, <span class="smcap">Isabel</span> +<i>shakes the contents of the little packets</i>. <i>Whilst +they are doing this the following talk is carried on at the +table</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span> [<i>Taking up a +spoon</i>.] Real plated, sister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Upon my word, so +’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. And not so bright as I +should wish to see it neither. I’ve had a sad trouble +with my maids of late.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Sister and I don’t +keep none of them, thank goodness.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. We does our work with +our own hands. We’d be ashamed if ’twas +otherwise.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. [<i>Scowling at +them</i>.] I’ve been and engaged a house-full of +servants for Rose-Anna. She shall know what ’tis to +live like a lady once she enters our family.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Servants be like green +fly on the bush. They do but spoil th’ home and +everything they do touch. All save one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. And that one’s +Jerry, I suppose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You’re right +there, Kitty, that you are. A harder head was never given +to man than what Jerry do carry twixt his shoulders.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>here put round the mugs of +cider</i>, <i>and everyone drinks thirstily</i>. <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>stands behind the chairs of</i> +<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>at</i> <span +class="smcap">John’s</span> <i>side</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. [<i>Setting down his +mug</i>.] There’s a drink what can’t be got in +foreign parts.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Looking fondly at +him</i>.] Let the maid fill your mug again, my dear +one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. [<i>Carelessly +handing it to</i> <span class="smcap">Isabel</span>.] I +don’t mind if I do have another swill.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>fills the mug and puts +it by his side</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. As good as any I ever +tasted.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Couldn’t better +it at the King’s Head up our way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Good drink—plenty +of it. Now we’ll start upon the meat I reckon.</p> +<p>[<i>He takes up a knife and fork and begins to carve</i>, +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>hands round +plates</i>. <i>During this</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert’s</span> <i>gaze restlessly wanders +about the room</i>, <i>finally fixing itself on</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span>, <i>who presently goes out to the +back kitchen with plates</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. The new serving maid +you’ve got there, Rose, should wear a cap and not her +bonnet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. How sharp you are to +notice anything.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. A very pretty looking +wench, from what I can see.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Speaking more to +the cousins than to</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span>.] +O she’s but a rough and untrained girl got in all of a +hurry. Not at all the sort I’ve been used to in this +house, I can tell you.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>comes back with fresh +plates and stands at the side table</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Jane</span>.] A mellower piece of pig meat I +never did taste, sister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I’m sorry I went +and took the poultry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. John will carve you +some ham if you’d like to try it, Miss Jane.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I’m sure +I’m much obliged.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>comes in</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Coming to the +back of</i> <span class="smcap">Jane’s</span> +<i>chair</i>.] Don’t you get mixing of your meats is +what I says. Commence with ham and finish with he. +That’s what do suit the inside of a delicate female.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Looking up +admiringly</i>.] Now that’s just what old Uncle he +did used to say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Old uncle did know +what he was a-talking about then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. [<i>Warming and looking +less awkward and ill at ease</i>.] ’Twas the gout +what kept Uncle so low in his eating, ’twas not th’ +inclination of him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Ah +’twouldn’t be the gout nor any other disease as would +keep me from a platter of good food.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Nor from your mug of +drink neither, Jerry.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>laughs and moves off to +the side table</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. A very pleasant sort of +man.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I do like anyone +what’s homely.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Calling out +heartily</i>.] Do you listen to that, Jerry! The +ladies here do find you pleasant and homely, and I don’t +know what else.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. The mugs want filling +once more.</p> +<p>[<i>He stolidly goes round the table refilling the +mugs</i>. <span class="smcap">Rose’s</span> <i>gaze +wanders about her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span>.] That’s not a bad +looking figure of a man—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Who?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Well—the new farm +hand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. A sulky looking +brute. I’d not let him wear his hat to table if I was +master here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. He puts me in mind +of—well—there, I can’t recollect who +’tis. [<i>A knock is heard at the door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Sharply to</i> +<span class="smcap">Isabel</span>.] Go and see who +’tis, Lucy.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>opens the door</i>, +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mary Meadows</span> <i>stands on +the threshold</i>, <i>a large nosegay of beautiful wild flowers +in her hand</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Rising up in great +pleasure</i>.] You’re late, Mary. But +you’re welcome as the—as the very sunshine.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Set another place, +Lucy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Not for me, Rose. +I did not come here to eat or drink, but to bring you these few +blossoms and my love.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Rises from the +table and takes the nosegay</i>.] I’m sure +you’re very kind, Mary—Suppose we were all to move +into the parlour now we have finished dinner, and then we could +enjoy a bit of conversation.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Very pleasant, I’m +sure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I see no objection.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. [<i>Running round to +look at the flowers</i>.] And Mary shall tell us how to +make charms out of the flowers—and the meanings of the +blossoms and all the strange things she knows about them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Taking a flower +from the bunch and putting it into his coat</i>.] Yes, and +how to brew tea as’ll curl up anyone’s tongue within +the mouth for a year—and fancy drinks for sheep with foot +rot, and powders against the murrain and any other nonsense that +you do please.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Now, John, I’ll +not have you damage my business like this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Maybe as the young +person’s got sommat what’ll be handy with your +complaint, sister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Or for when you be took +with th’ air in your head so bad, Jane.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Yes, I reckon that Mary +has a charm for every ill beneath the sun. Let’s go +off to the parlour along of her. You’re not coming +with us, John, are you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I’d not miss the +telling of these things for anything in the world, foolishness +though they be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Come along +then—all of you.</p> +<p>[<i>They all go out</i>. <span +class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>holds the door open for +them</i>. <i>As she passes through it</i> <span +class="smcap">Liz</span> <i>says</i>, <i>looking at him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. We shall hope for your +company, too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. To be sure, mister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. +[<i>Haughtily</i>.] I bain’t one for parlours, nor +charms, ma’am. I be here for another purpose.</p> +<p>[<i>They leave the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Having watched +the party out</i>, <i>moves towards the cider jug</i>.] +Now, my man, now, my wench—us’ll see what can be done +with the victuals and drink they’ve been and left. +’Tis a fair heavy feed and drink as I do need. Sommat +as’ll lift me up through all the trials of this here +foolish matrimony and stuff.</p> +<p>[<i>He raises the jug of cider to his mouth as the Curtain +falls</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT III.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>The next morning</i>. <span +class="smcap">Robert’s</span> <i>cousins are standing by +the fire-place of the same room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. ’Tis powerful +unhomely here, Jane.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And that +’tis. I wish as Robert had never brought us along of +him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. She’s a stuck-up +jay of a thing what he’s about to wed if ever I seed +one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. That her be. +He’ll live to wish hisself dead and buried one day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. There bain’t but +one sensible tongue in the whole place to my mind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Ah, he’s a man to +anyone’s liking, sister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. ’Tis homelike as +he do make I to feel among all these strangers.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Here he comes.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>with a yoke and two +pails stands at the doorway</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Now do you come in, +mister, and have a bit of talk along of we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Set down them pails and +do as sister says, Mister Jeremy.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>looks them all over and +then slowly and deliberately sets down his pails</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. That’s right, +sister and me was feeling terribly lonesome here this +morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And we was wishing as +we’d never left home to come among all these stranger +folk.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Not that we feels you to +be a stranger, dear Mister Jeremy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. You be a plain homely +man such as me and sister be accustomed to.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Anything more?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. I suppose you’ve +put by a tidy bit—seeing as you be of a certain age.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Although your looks +favour you well, don’t they, sister?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. To be sure they do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And I reckon as you +could set up a home of your own any day, mister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Pointing through +the window</i>.] See that there roof against the mill?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Indeed I do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. That’s where I +do live.</p> +<p>[<i>Both sisters move quickly to the window</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. A very comfortable +looking home indeed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. I likes the looks of it +better nor this great old house.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Archly</i>.] +Now I daresay there’s but one thing wanted over there, +Mister Jeremy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. What’s +that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. A good wife to do and +manage for you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I never was done for +nor managed by a female yet, and blowed if I will be now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. [<i>Shaking her finger +at him</i>.] Sister an’ me knows what comes of such +words, don’t us, sister? ’Tis an old saying in +our family as one wedding do make a many.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Give me a +woman’s tongue for foolishness. I’ve heared a +saying too in my family, which be—get a female on to your +hearth and ’tis Bedlam straight away.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Now, sister, did you +ever hear the like of that?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Us’ll have to +change his mind for him, Jane.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I reckon +’twould take a rare lot of doing to change that, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Bain’t you +a-goin’ to get yourself ready for church soon?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Dashed if I ever +heard tell of such foolishness. Who’s to mind the +place with all the folk gone fiddle-faddling out?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. There’s the man +William.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I bain’t +a-goin’ to leave the place to a stranger.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Why, sister, +us’ll feel lost and lonesome without mister, shan’t +us, Liz?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. That us will. What +if us stayed at home and helped to mind the house along of +he?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Slowly</i>.] +And did not put our new gowns upon the backs of we after all the +money spent?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Ah, there you +be. ’Tis the same with all females. Creatures +of vanity—even if they be got a bit long in the +tooth. ’Tis all the same.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Liz</span> <i>draw themselves up</i>, +<i>bridling</i>, <i>but</i> <span class="smcap">Liz</span> +<i>relaxes</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. He must have his little +joke, sister, man-like, you know.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>enters</i>.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Jerry, and I’ve +been seeking you everywhere. Come you off to the +yard. ’Tis as much as we shall do to be ready afore +church time. I never knew you to idle in the house +afore.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Taking up his +pails</i>, <i>sarcastically</i>.] ’Twas the females +as tempted I, master, but ’twon’t occur again, so +there. [<i>He hurries off</i>, <i>followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">John</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. [<i>With +dignity</i>.] Us’ll go upstairs and dress, +sister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. ’Tis time we did +so. All them new-fashioned things be awkward in the +fastenings.</p> +<p>[<i>They go upstairs</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>come in from the garden</i>. +<span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>carries a little card-board +box in his hand</i>, <i>which he places on the table</i>. +<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>sits down listlessly on a +chair leaning her arms on the table</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. [<i>Undoing the +box</i>.] This is the bouquet what I promised to bring from +town.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Her gaze wandering +outside</i>.] Well, we might as well look at it afore I go +to dress.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>uncovers the box and +takes out a small bouquet of white flowers surrounded by a lace +frill</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Taking it from him +carelessly and raising it to her face</i>.] Why, they are +false ones.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. +[<i>Contemptuously</i>.] My good girl, who ever went to +church with orange blossom that was real, I’d like to +know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Languidly dropping +the bouquet on the table</i>.] I’m sure I don’t +care. I reckon that one thing’s about as good as +another to be married with.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. [<i>Going to the +window and looking out</i>.] Ah—I daresay ’tis +so.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I feel tired of my +wedding day already—that I do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. There’s a +plaguey, fanciful kind of feel about the day, what a man’s +hardly used to, so it seems to me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Wildly</i>.] +O, I reckon we may get used to it in time afore we die.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Now—if +’twas with the right—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Right what, Robert?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. +[<i>Confused</i>.] I hardly know what I was a-going to say, +Rose. Suppose you was to take up your flowers and go to +dress yourself. We might as well get it all over and +finished with.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Rising +slowly</i>.] Perhaps ’twould be best. +I’ll go to my room, and you might call the girl Lucy and +send her up to help me with my things.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Won’t you take +the bouquet along of you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. No—let it bide +there. I can have it later.</p> +<p>[<i>She goes slowly from the room</i>.</p> +<p>[<i>Left to himself</i>, <span class="smcap">Robert</span> +<i>strolls to the open door and looks gloomily out on the +garden</i>. <i>Suddenly his face brightens</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Lucy, Lucy, come you +in here a moment.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lucy</span>. [<i>From +outside</i>.] I be busy just now hanging out my cloths, +master.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Leave your dish +cloths to dry themselves. Your mistress wants you, +Lucy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lucy</span>. [<i>Coming to the +door</i>.] Mistress wants me, did you say?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Yes, you’ve got +to go and dress her for the church. But you can spare me a +minute or two first.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Going quickly +across the room to the staircase door</i>.] Indeed, that is +what I cannot do, master. ’Tis late already.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. [<i>Catches her hand +and pulls her back</i>.] I’ve never had a good look +at your face yet, my girl—you act uncommon coy, and that +you do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Turning her head +away and speaking angrily</i>.] Let go of my hand, I tell +you. I don’t want no nonsense of that sort.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Lucy, your voice do +stir me in a very uncommon fashion, and there’s sommat +about the appearance of you—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. Let go of me, +master. Suppose as anyone should look through the +window.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Let them look. +I’d give a good bit for all the world to see us now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. O, whatever do you +mean by that, Mister Robert?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. What I say. +’Tis with you as I’d be going along to church this +morning. Not her what’s above.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. But I wouldn’t +go with you—No, not for all the gold in the world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Ah, you’ve +changed since yesterday. When I caught your eye at dinner, +’twas gentle as a dove’s—and your hand, when it +gave me my mug of cider did seem—well did seem to put a +caress upon me like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. O there lies a world +of time twixt yesterday and to-day, Master Robert.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. So it do seem. +For to-day ’tis all thorns and thistles with you—But +I’m a-goin’ to have my look at your pretty face and +my kiss of it too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. I shall scream out +loud if you touches me—that I shall.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. [<i>Pulling her to +him</i>.] Us’ll see about that.</p> +<p>[<i>He tries to get a sight of her face</i>, <i>but she twists +and turns</i>. <i>Finally he seizes both her hands and +covers them with kisses as</i> <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> +<i>enters</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. O whatever’s +going on! Rose, Rose, John—come you in here quickly, +do. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lucy</span>.] O +you bad, wicked girl. I knew you couldn’t be a very +nice servant brought in off the road by Jeremy.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Isabel</span>, <i>released by</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span>, <i>goes over to the window arranging +her disordered sun-bonnet and trying to hide her tears</i>. +<span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>watches her +sullenly</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. [<i>Goes to the +staircase door and calls loudly</i>.] Rose, Rose—come +you down as quick as you can run.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Coming +down</i>.] What’s all this, I’d like to +know?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. It’s Lucy, +behaving dreadful—O you must send her straight away from +the house, Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. What has she done, +then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. Going on with +Robert. Flirting, Rose, and kissing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. O no, mistress, +twasn’t so, I do swear to you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. +[<i>Brutally</i>.] Yes ’twas. The maid so put +me powerful in mind of someone who—who—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Coldly</i>.] +I understand you, Robert. Well, ’tis lucky that all +this didn’t come off an hour or so later.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. +[<i>Tearfully</i>.] O Rose, what do you mean?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I mean that +what’s not broken don’t need no mending. Robert +can go to church with someone else to-day, he can. And no +harm done.</p> +<p>[<i>She takes up the bunch of orange flowers and begins +pulling it to pieces and throwing it all about the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. O Rose, Rose, +don’t take it so hard. ’Twasn’t +Robert’s fault. ’Twas the girl off the road +what led him on. I know it. Tell her to get out of +the house. I’ll dress you—I’ll do the +work. Only be just and sensible again; dear Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Let the girl +bide. It makes no difference to me. There’ll be +no marrying for me to-day.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>comes in at the +door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. [<i>Running to +him</i>.] O John, John—do you quiet down Rose and +tell her to get upstairs and dress. She’s a-saying +that she won’t marry Robert because of his goings on with +the new servant—But, O, you’ll talk her into reason +again, won’t you, dear John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Come, come, +what’s all this cackle about, Rose?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I’m breaking off +with Robert, that’s all, John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Robert, can’t you +take and explain a bit what ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. +[<i>Sullenly</i>.] A little bit of play ’twixt me and +the wench there, and that’s about all, I reckon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Now that’s an +unsensible sort of thing to get doing on your marriage day, to my +thinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. ’Twasn’t +Robert’s fault, I know. ’Twas the maid off the +road who started it.</p> +<p>[<i>Here</i> <span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>sinks down +on a chair by the window</i>, <i>leaning her arms on the table +and bowing her head</i>, <i>in tears</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Going to the +door</i>.] Jeremy—Jeremy—come you in here a +minute.</p> +<p>[<i>Instead of</i> <span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>, <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>comes in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Twas Jeremy I +did call—not you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. He’s gone off +the place for a few minutes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Vexedly</i>.] +Ah, ’tis early for the Red Bull.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. Can I—can I do +anything for you, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Not unless you can +account for the sort of serving wench off the roadside what Jerry +has put upon us.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. What is there to +account for in her, master?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. +[<i>Passionately</i>.] O I don’t particular mind +about what’s happened. Let her kiss with Robert if +she has the mind. ’Tis always the man who +commences.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis not. +There are some wenches who don’t know how to leave anyone +alone. Worser than cattle flies, that sort.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. [<i>Going across the +room to</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin’s</span> +<i>side</i>.] O you shame me by them words, I bain’t +that sort of maid—you’ll answer for +me—William?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>silently takes her +hand</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Her eyes fixed +on</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span>.] I’ll tell +you what, John; I’ll tell you, Kitty. I wish +I’d held me to my first lover and I wish ’twas with +Lubin that I was a-going to the church to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. +[<i>Sullenly</i>.] Then I’ll say sommat, Rose. +I wish ’twas with Isabel that I was getting wed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Now, +now—’Tis like two children a quarrelling over their +playthings. Suppose you was to go and get yourself dressed, +Rose-Anna—And you too, Robert. Why, the traps will be +at the door afore you’re ready if you don’t quicken +yourselves up a bit. Kitty, you go and help your +sister.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>With a jealous +glance at Isabel</i>.] No, I’ll have Lucy with +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. That’s it, you +keep her out of mischief</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. I’ve got my own +dress to put on.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. And Robert, you and me +will have a drink after all this caddle. ’Tis dry +work getting ready for marriage so it appears.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. ’Tis fiery dry +to my thinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Crossing the room +and going up to</i> <span class="smcap">Lubin</span>.] I +have no flowers to take to church with me, William; go you to the +waterside, I have a mind to carry some of the blue things what +grow there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. Forget-me-nots, you +mean!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Forget-me-nots, I +mean. And none but you to gather them for me, +William. Because—because—well, you do put me in +thoughts of someone that I once held and now have lost. +That’s all.</p> +<p>[<i>Curtain</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT III.—Scene 2.</h3> +<p><i>The same room half an hour later</i>. <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>is picking up the scattered orange +blossom which she ties together and lays on the window +sill</i>. <span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>comes in with +a large bunch of river forget-me-nots</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. I didn’t think +to find you here, Isabel.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. O but that is a +beautiful blue flower. I will take the bunch +upstairs. She is all dressed and ready for it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>Putting it on the +table</i>.] No—do you bide a moment here with me.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Isabel</span> <i>looks helplessly at</i> +<span class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>who takes her hands slowly in +his</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. What are we going to +do?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. I wish as we had +never touched the seeds.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. O cursed seeds of +love—Far better to have left all as ’twas yesterday +in the morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. He has followed me +like my shadow, courting and courting me hard and all the time, +Lubin.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. She sought me out in +the yard at day-break, and what I’d have given twenty years +of life for yester eve I could have thrown into the stream this +morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span> [<i>Sadly</i>.] So +’tis with my feelings.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. She has altered +powerful, to my fancy, in these years.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. And Robert be +differenter too from what I do remember. [<i>A long +silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. Have you thought as it +might be in us two these changes have come about, Isabel?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. I was just the maid +as ever I was until—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. And so was I +unchanged, until I started travelling up on the same road as you, +Isabel.</p> +<p>[<i>For a few minutes they look gravely into one +another’s eyes</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel’s</span> <i>hands</i>.] So +that’s how ’tis with you and me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. O Lubin—a poor +serving maid like I am.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. I’ll have no one +else in the whole world.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. What could I have +seen in him, times gone by?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. And was it ever true +that I did sit through a long Sunday her hand in mine? +[<i>Another silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. But how’s us +ever to get out of the caddle where we be?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>Gaily</i>.] +We’ll just run away off to the Fair as t’other +servants did.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. And leave them in +their hate for one another? No—’twould be too +cruel. Us’ll run to the young mistress what knows all +about them herbs. I count as there be seeds or sommat which +could set the hearts of them two back in the right places +again. Come—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. Have it your own way +then. But ’twill have to be done very quickly if +’tis done at all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. Us’ll fly over +the ground like.</p> +<p>[<i>She puts her hand impetuously in</i> <span +class="smcap">Lubin’s</span> <i>and they go out +together</i>. <i>As they do so</i>, <span +class="smcap">Isabel’s</span> <i>bonnet falls from her head +and lies unheeded on the floor</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT III.—Scene 3.</h3> +<p><i>A few minutes later</i>. <span +class="smcap">Liz</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>wearing gay sprigged dresses and +feathered bonnets</i>, <i>come to the room</i>. <i>They +carry fans and handkerchiefs in their hands</i>. <i>It is +seen that their gowns are not fastened at the back</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Such a house I never +heard tell of. Ring, ring at the bell and no one to come +nigh.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Being unused to bells, +sister, maybe as us did pull them wrong or sommat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. I wish we’d had +the gowns made different.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. To do up in the +front—sensible like.</p> +<p>[<i>They twist and turn in front of the glass on the wall</i>, +<i>absorbed in their dress</i>, <i>they do not notice that</i> +<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>has come in and is watching +them sarcastically</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Being as grey as +th’ old badger don’t keep a female back from +vanity.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. O dear, Master Jeremy, +what a turn you did give me, to be sure.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. We can’t find no +one in this house to attend upon we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I count as you can +not. Bain’t no one here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. We rang for the wench a +many time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Ah, and you might +ring.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. We want someone +as’ll fasten them niggly hooks to our gowns.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Ah, and you may +want.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Our sight bain’t +clear enough to do one for t’other, the eyelets be made so +small.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Count as you’ll +have to go unfastened then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. O now you be a laughing +at us. Call the wench down, or we shall never be ready in +time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Man and maid be both +gone off. Same as t’others, us’ll have to do +without service.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Gone off!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Runned clean away?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. That’s about +it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Well now, sister, +us’ll have to ask the little Miss to help we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I’ve harnessed +the mare a many time. Don’t see why I shouldn’t +get the both of you fixed into the shafts like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span> and <span +class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Fanning themselves +coyly</i>.] O Master Jeremy—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Come now. +Let’s have a try. I count as no one have a steadier +hand nor me this side of the river, nor a finer eye for seeing as +everything be in its place. I’ll settle the both of +you afore I gets out the horse and trap. Turn round.</p> +<p>[<i>The sisters turn awkwardly</i>, <i>and with very +self-conscious airs begin to flutter their fans</i>. <span +class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>quickly hooks each gown in +succession</i>. <i>As he finishes the fastening of</i> +<span class="smcap">Jane’s</span> <i>dress</i> <span +class="smcap">Rose</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">Kitty</span>, <i>comes into the room</i>. +<i>She is wearing her bridal gown and veil</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Pausing</i>.] +What’s this, Jeremy?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. The servants be +runned away same as t’others—that’s all, +mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Run away?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. So I do reckon. +Bain’t anywhere about the place.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Flinging herself +down on a chair by the table</i>, <i>in front of the bunch of +forget-me-nots</i>.] Let them be found. Let them be +brought back at once.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. For my part I’m +glad they’ve gone off. The girl was a wild, bad +thing. I saw how she went on with Robert.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Brokenly to</i> +<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.] You found them. +Bring them back, Jerry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. No—wait till you +and Robert are made man and wife, Rose. Then +’twon’t matter quite so much.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I’ll never wed me +to Robert, I’ll only wed me to him who gathered these blue +flowers here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. Good heavens, Rose, +’twas the man William.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Kitty</span> <i>looks in consternation +from</i> <span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>to the cousins and +then to</i> <span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>, <i>who remains +impassive and uninterested</i>, <i>sucking a straw</i>. +<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>clasps her hands round the +forget-me-nots and sits gazing at them</i>, <i>desolately +unhappy</i>. <span class="smcap">Robert</span> +<i>enters</i>. <i>He is very grandly dressed for the +wedding</i>, <i>but as he comes into the room he sees</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel’s</span> <i>cotton bonnet on the +floor</i>. <i>He stoops</i>, <i>picks it up and laying it +reverently on the table</i>, <i>sinks into a chair opposite</i> +<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>and raising one of its +ribbons</i>, <i>kisses this with passion</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. There—I’d +not change this for a thousand sacks of gold—I swear +I’d not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. Now Robert—get +up, the two of you. Are you bewitched or sommat—O +Jerry, stir them, can’t you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Robert, +’tisn’t hardly suitable—with the young miss so +sweetly pretty in her white gown.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And wedding veil and +all. And sister and me hooked up into our new sprigs, ready +for the ceremony.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Looking at them +with cold contempt</i>.] Let them bide. The +mush’ll swim out of they same as ’twill swim off the +cider vat. Just let the young fools bide.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. O this’ll never +do. Jerry forgetting of his manners and all. +[<i>Calling at the garden door</i>.] John, John, come you +here quickly, there’s shocking goings on. [<span +class="smcap">John</span>, <i>in best clothes comes in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. What’s the rattle +now, Kitty? I declare I might be turning round on top of my +own mill wheel such times as these.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. Rose says she +won’t wed Robert, and Robert’s gone off his head all +along of that naughty servant maid.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">John</span> <i>stands contemplating</i> +<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span>. <span +class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>seems lost to the outside world and +is gazing with tears at her forget-me-nots</i>, <i>whilst</i> +<span class="smcap">Robert</span>, <i>in sullen gloom</i>, +<i>keeps his eyes fixed on the sun-bonnet</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Come, Rose, ’tis +time you commenced to act a bit different. [<span +class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>does not answer</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Come, Robert, if you +play false to my sister at the last moment, you know with whom +you’ll have to reckon like. [<span +class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>pays no heed to him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.] Can you do naught to work +upon them a bit, Jerry?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I’d have a jug +of cider in, master. ’Twill settle them all. +Folks do get ’sterical and vapourish face to face with +matrimony. Put some drink afore of them, and see how +’twill act.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. O what a wise thought, +Master Jerry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Most suitable, I call +it.</p> +<p>[<i>Here</i> <span class="smcap">Mary Meadows</span> <i>comes +in</i>, <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>turns eagerly to +her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. O Mary—have you +come to help us in the fix where we are? [<i>He signs +to</i> <span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. What has happened, +John?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I’ll tell you +in a couple of words, mistress.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. No—do you fetch +the cider, dear Mister Jeremy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. ’Tis more than I +can do with, Mary. Rose is set against Robert, and Robert +is set against Rose. Rose—well I’m fairly +ashamed to mention it—Rose has lost her senses and would +wed the servant William—and Robert is a-courting of the +maid.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Ah, let each fool +follow their own liking, says I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. And sister and me all +dressed in our new gowns for the church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And Jerry had to do the +hooking for we, both of the servants having runned away.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Well, now I’m +here I’ll lend a hand. I’ll help with the +dinner time you’re at church. You shall not need to +trouble about anything, Mr. John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. O once I do get them to +the church and the ring fixed and all I shan’t trouble +about nothing, Mary. But ’tis how to move them from +where they be! That’s the puzzle.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I’ll never move +till the hand that gathered these flowers be here to raise +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. I’ll sit here +to the end of the world sooner nor go along to be wed with Miss +over there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. ’Tis midsummer +heat have turned their brains. But I know a cooling draught +that will heal them of their sickness. Jeremy, do you step +into the garden and bring me a handful of fresh violet leaves, +one blossom from the heartsease and a sprig of rosemary.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. +[<i>Sighing</i>.] What next?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Get gone at once, +Jerry.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>goes to the +door</i>—<i>as he does so</i> <span +class="smcap">Liz</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>start up and follow him</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Sister and me will come +along and help you, dear Mr. Jeremy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And that us will, if +our new gowns bain’t hooked too tight for we to bend.</p> +<p>[<i>They follow</i> <span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>to +the garden</i>. <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> +<i>silently leaves the room also</i>. <span +class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>remain lost in their sorrowful +reflections</i>. <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>look at them for a moment and +then turn to one another</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Mary, I never thought +to see such a thing as this.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. You take my word for +it, John, the storm will soon be blown away.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. I don’t know how +I should stand up against the worry of it all, wasn’t it +for you, Mary.</p> +<p>[<i>A short silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">Mary’s</span> <i>hand</i>.] +’Twill be a bit lonesome for me here, when they’ve +gone off, Mary.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. You’ll have Kitty +to do for you then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Kitty be going to live +along of them at Bristol too, after a while.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Looking round the +room</i>.] Then I count as it might feel a bit desolate +like in this great house alone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">Mary’s</span> <i>hand</i>.] I cannot +face it, Mary. I’ve loved you many years, you +know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. I know you have, dear +John.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. Can’t you forget +he what was false to you, days gone by, and take me as your +husband now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. +[<i>Doubtfully</i>.] I don’t hardly know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. You used to sing +sommat—the grass that was trampled under foot, give it +time, it will rise up again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. [<i>Drying her +eyes</i>.] Ah, it has risen, dear John—and I count it +have covered the wound of those past days—my heart do tell +me so, this minute.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Holding both her +hands</i>.] Then ’tis one long midsummer afore you +and me, Mary.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. That’s how +’twill be, dear John.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>, <i>followed by the +cousins</i>, <i>enters</i>. <i>He holds a bunch of leaves +towards</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. There you be, +mistress. Fools’ drink for fools. A mug of good +cider would have fetched them to their senses quicker.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>takes the bunch</i>, +<i>and still holding</i> <span class="smcap">John’s</span> +<i>hand</i>, <i>leads him to the kitchen</i>. <span +class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>watches the pair +sarcastically</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. ’Tis all +finished with the master, then.</p> +<p>[<i>The sisters seat themselves on the couch and mop their +faces with handkerchiefs</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Dear me, ’tis +warm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I hope my face +don’t show mottled, sister?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. I was saying as how +’twas all finished with the master.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span +class="smcap">John</span>, <i>comes forward carrying two +glasses</i>. <i>She gives one to</i> <span +class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>and the other to</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mary</span>. Now do you take a good +draught of this, the both of you. With violet leaves the +fever of the mind is calmed, and heartsease lightens every +trouble caused by love. Rosemary do put new life to anyone +with its sweetness, and cold spring water does the rest.</p> +<p>[<i>She leaves the table and stands far back in the room +by</i> <span class="smcap">John’s</span> <i>side</i>. +<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>slowly lifts her glass and +begins to drink</i>. <span class="smcap">Robert</span> +<i>does the same</i>. <i>They are watched with anxiety by +all in the room</i>. <i>When they have emptied their +glasses</i> <span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>dries her tears +and pushes the flowers a little way from her</i>. <span +class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>shakes himself and moves the +cotton bonnet so that it falls unheeded to the floor</i>. +<i>Meanwhile</i> <span class="smcap">Kitty</span> <i>has come +quietly to the garden door and stands there watching the scene +intently</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Bain’t we going to +get a drink too?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Seems as though master +have been and forgot we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Starting up and +going to the kitchen</i>.] If I’ve been and forgot +you two old women, I’ve remembered myself. Be blowed +if I can get through any more of this foolishness without a wet +of my mouth.</p> +<p>[<i>He goes out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Speaking +faintly</i>.] Does it show upon my face, the crying, +Robert?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. [<i>Looking at +her</i>.] No, no, Rose, your eyes be brighter nor ever they +were.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Pushing the +forget-me-nots yet further away</i>.] Those flowers are +dying. My fancy ones were best.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. [<i>Coming forward +with the orange blossoms</i>.] Here they are, dear +Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Taking +them</i>.] O how beautiful they do look. I declare I +can smell the sweetness coming out from them, Robert.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. All the orange +blossom in the world bain’t so sweet as one kiss from your +lips, Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Now is that truly +so?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Ah, ’tis heavy +work a-waiting for the coach, Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Coming forward and +taking</i> <span class="smcap">Mary’s</span> +<i>hand</i>.] And yours won’t be the only marriage +Rose-Anna. Did you never think that me and Mary +might—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Kitty</span>. [<i>Running +forward</i>.] But I did—O so many times, John. +[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>enters with</i> <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Servants be comed +back. Man was to the Red Bull, I count. Female +a-washing and a-combing of herself in the barn.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Coldly</i>.] +I don’t care whether they be here or not. Set them to +work, Jerry, whilst we are to church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. That’s it, Master +Jeremy. I was never so put out in my life, as when sister +did keep on ringing and the wench was not there to help us on +with our gowns.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>get up and go towards the +door</i>. <i>They pause before</i> <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. The man puts me in mind +of someone whom I knew before, called Lubin. I thought I +had a fancy for him once—but ’twasn’t really +so.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. And the girl do +favour a little servant wench from Framilode.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. +[<i>Jealously</i>.] You never went a-courting with a +servant wench, now did you, my heart’s dearest?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. Never in all my days, +Rose. ’Twas but the fanciful thoughts of a boy +towards she, that I had.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Putting her arm +in</i> <span class="smcap">Robert’s</span>.] Well, we +have nothing to do with anything more of it now, dear Robert.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>. You’re about +right, my true love, we’ll get us off to the church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. Ah, coach have been +waiting a smartish while, I reckon. ’Tis on master as +expense’ll fall.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>with cold glances at</i> <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span>, <i>pass out of the door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">John</span>. [<i>Giving his arm +to</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>.] Now, +Mary—now, Kitty. [<i>They pass out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Liz</span>. Now, Jeremy, sister and +me bain’t going off all alone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>. [<i>Offering an arm +to each</i>.] No further than the church door, I say. +I’ve better things to do nor a-giving of my arm to females +be they never so full of wiles. And you two do beat many +what bain’t near so long in the tusk, ah, that you +does.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>goes out with the +sisters</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Lubin</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Isabel</span>.] And shall we go off into the +meadows, Isabel, seeing that we are quite forgot?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Isabel</span>. No—’tis +through these faithless ones as us have learnt to understand the +hearts within of we. Let’s bide and get the marriage +dinner ready for them first.</p> +<p>[<i>She stretches both her hands towards</i> <span +class="smcap">Lubin</span>, <i>who takes them reverently in his +as the Curtain falls</i>.</p> +<h2>THE NEW YEAR</h2> +<h3>CHARACTERS</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve Browning</span>, <i>a +Blacksmith</i>, <i>also Parish Clerk</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George Davis</span>, <i>a +Carpenter</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry Moss</span>, <i>a young +Tramp</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May Browning</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane Browning</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry Browning</span>, <i>aged +twelve</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie Sims</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose Sims</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti Reed</span>.</p> +<h3>ACT I.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>A country roadside</i>. <i>It is late afternoon and +already dusk</i>. <span class="smcap">May Browning</span> +<i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Harry Moss</span> <i>come slowly +forward</i>. <i>Close to a stile which is a little off the +road</i>, <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>stops</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. There, you don’t +need to come no further with I, Harry Moss. You get on +quick towards the town afore the night be upon you, and the snow, +too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I don’t care +much about leaving you like this on the roadside, May. And +that’s the truth, ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Don’t you take no +more thought for I, Harry. ’Tis a good boy as +you’ve been to I since the day when we fell in +together. But now there bain’t no more need for you +to hold back your steps, going slow and heavy when you might run +spry and light. For ’tis home as I be comed to now, I +be. You go your way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I see naught of any +house afore us or behind. ’Tis very likely dusk as is +upon us, or may happen ’tis the fog getting up from the +river.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Coughing</i>.] +Look you across that stile, Harry. There be a field path, +bain’t there?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. [<i>Taking a few steps +to the right and peering through the gloom</i>.] Ah, and +that there be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And at t’other end +of it a house what’s got a garden fence all round.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Ah—and +’tis so. And now as I comes to look there be a light +shining from out the windows of it, too, though ’tis +shining dim-like in the mist.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. ’Tis that +yonder’s my home, Harry. There’s the door where +I must stand and knock.</p> +<p>[<i>For a moment she draws the shawl over her face and is +shaken with weeping</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I wouldn’t take +on so, if ’twas me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And did you say as how +there was a light in the window? ’Twill be but fire +light then, for th’ old woman she never would bring out the +lamp afore ’twas night, close-handed old she-cat as her +was, what’d lick up a drop of oil on to the tongue of her +sooner nor it should go wasted.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. There, ’tis +shining better now—or maybe as the fog have shifted.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. ’Tis nigh to home +as I be, Harry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Then get and stand up +out of the wet grass there, and I’ll go along of you a bit +further. ’Twill not be much out of my way. +Nothing to take no count of.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. No, no, Harry. I +bain’t going to cross that field, nor yet stand at the door +knocking till the dark has fallen on me. Why, is it like as +I’d let them see me coming over the meadow and going +through the gate in this? [<i>Holding up a ragged +shawl</i>.] In these? [<i>Pointing to her broken +shoes</i>.] And—as I be to-day.</p> +<p>[<i>Spreading out her arms and then suddenly bending forward +in a fit of anguished coughing</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. There, there, you be +one as is too handy with the tongue, like. Don’t you +go for to waste the breath inside of you when you’ll be +wanting all your words for they as bides up yonder and as +doesn’t know that you be coming back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Throwing apart her +shawl and struggling with her cough</i>.] Harry, you take +the tin and fill it at the ditch and give I to drink. +’Tis all live coals within I here, so ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. You get along home, +and maybe as them’ll find summat better nor water from the +ditch to give you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. No, no, what was I +a-saying to you? The dark must fall and cover me, or I +won’t never go across the field nor a-nigh the house. +Give I to drink, give I to drink. And then let me bide in +quiet till all of the light be gone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. [<i>Taking out a tin +mug from the bundle beside her</i>.] Where be I to find +drink, and the frost lying stiff upon the ground?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Pointing</i>.] +Up yonder, where the ash tree do stand. Look you there, +’tis a bit of spouting as do come through the hedge, and +water from it, flowing downwards away to the ditch.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>goes off with the +can</i>. <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>watches him</i>, +<i>drawing her shawl again about her and striving to suppress a +fit of coughing</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>returns and holds out the +can</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. ’Tis not very +quick as you’ve been, Harry Moss. Here—give it +to I fast. Give!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>puts the can towards her +and she takes it in her hands</i>, <i>which shake feverishly</i>, +<i>and she drinks with sharp avidity</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. ’Tis the taste as +I have thought on these many a year. Ah, and have gotten +into my mouth, too, when I did lay sleeping, that I have. +Water from yonder spout, with the taste of dead leaves sharp in +it. Drink of it, too, Harry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. ’Tis no water as +I wants, May. Give I summat as’ll lie more warm and +comfortable to th’ inside like. I bain’t one +for much water, and that’s the truth, ’tis. +[<i>He empties the water on the ground</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Then go you out upon +your way, Harry Moss, for the dark be gathering on us fast, and +there be many a mile afore you to the town, where the lamps do +shine and ’tis bright and warm in the places where they +sells the drink.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Once I sets off +running by myself, I’ll get there fast enough, May. +But I be going to stop along of you a bit more, for I don’t +care much about letting you bide lonesome on the road, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Then sit you down aside +of me, Harry, and the heat in my body, which is like flames, +shall maybe warm yourn, too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. [<i>Sitting down by +her side</i>.] ’Tis a fine thing to have a home what +you can get in and go to, May, with a bit of fire to heat the +limbs of you at, and plenty of victuals as you can put +inside. How was it as you ever came away from it, like?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Ah, and that’s +what I be asking of myself most of the time, Harry! For, +’tis summat like a twelve or eleven year since I shut the +door behind me and went out.</p> +<p>[<i>A slight pause</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Away from them all, upon +the road—so ’twas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. And never see’d +no more of them, nor sent to say how ’twas with you, nor +nothing?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Nor nothing, +Harry. Went out and shut the door behind me. And +’twas finished.</p> +<p>[<i>A long pause</i>, <i>during which the darkness has +gathered</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Whatever worked on you +for to do such a thing, May?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Bitterly</i>.] +Ah now, whatever did!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. ’Tweren’t +as though you might have been a young wench, flighty like, all +for the town and for they as goes up and about the streets of +it. For, look you here, ’tis an old woman as you be +now, May, and has been a twenty year or more, I don’t +doubt.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. An old woman be I, +Harry? Well, to the likes of you ’tis so, I +count. But a twelve year gone by, O, ’twas a fine +enough looking maid as I was then—Only a wild one, Harry, a +wild one, all for the free ways of the road and the lights of the +fair—And for the sun to rise in one place where I was, and +for I to be in t’other when her should set.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I’d keep my +breath for when ’twas wanted, if ’twas me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Come, look I in the +face, Harry Moss, and tell I if so be as they’ll be likely +to know I again up at home?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. How be I to tell you +such a thing, May, seeing that ’tis but a ten days or less +as I’ve been along of you on the road? And seeing +that when you was a young wench I never knowed the looks of you +neither?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Say how the face of I do +seem to you now, Harry, and then I’ll tell you how +’twas in the days gone by?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. ’Tis all too +dark like for to see clear, May. The night be coming upon +we wonderful fast.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. The hair, ’twas +bright upon my head eleven years gone by, Harry. +’Twas glancing, as might be the wing of a thrush, so +’twas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Well, ’tis as +the frost might lie on a dead leaf now, May, that it be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And the colour on me was +as a rose, and my limbs was straight. ’Twas fleet +like a rabbit as I could get about, the days that was then, +Harry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. ’Tis a poor old +bent woman as you be now, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Ah, Death have been +tapping on the door of my body this long while, but, please God, +I can hold me with the best of them yet, Harry, and that I +can. Victuals to th’ inside of I and a bit of +clothing to my bones, with summat to quiet this cough as doubles +of I up. Why, there, Harry, you won’t know as +’tis me when I’ve been to home a day or two—or +may be as ’twill take a week.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I count ’twill +take a rare lot of victuals afore you be set up as you once was, +May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Look you in my eyes, +Harry. They may not know me up at home by the hair, which +is different to what ’twas, or by the form of me, which be +got poor and nesh like. But in the eye there don’t +come never no change. So look you at they, Harry, and tell +I how it do appear to you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. There be darkness +lying atween you and me, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Then come you close to +I, Harry, and look well into they.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Them be set open +wonderful wide and ’tis as though a heat comed out from +they. ’Tis not anyone as might care much for to look +into the eyes what you’ve got.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>With +despondence</i>.] Maybe then, as them’ll not know as +’tis me, Harry Moss.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I count as +they’ll be hard put to, and that’s the truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. The note of me be +changed, too, with this cold what I have, and the breath of me so +short, but ’twon’t be long, I count, afore they sees +who ’tis. Though all be changed to th’ eye +like, there’ll be summat in me as’ll tell they. +And ’tis not a thing of shape, nor of colour as’ll +speak for I—But ’tis summat what do come straight out +of the hearts of we and do say better words for we nor what the +looks nor tongues of us might tell. You mind me, Harry, +there’s that which will come out of me as’ll bring +they to know who ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Ah, I reckon as +you’ll not let them bide till they does.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And when they do know, +and when they sees who ’tis, I count as they’ll be +good to me, I count they will. I did used to think as +Steve, he was a hard one, and th’ old woman what’s +his mother, hard too—And that it did please him for to keep +a rein on me like, but I sees thing different now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Ah, ’tis one +thing to see by candle and another by day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. For ’twas wild as +I was in the time gone by. Wild after pleasuring and the +noise in the town, and men a-looking at the countenance of I, and +a-turning back for to look again. But, hark you here, +’tis powerful changed as I be now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Ah, I count as you +be. Be changed from a young woman into an old one.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I’m finished with +the road journeying and standing about in the streets on market +days and the talk with men in the drinking places—Men what +don’t want to look more nor once on I now, and what used to +follow if ’twasn’t only a bit of eyelid as I’d +lift on them, times that is gone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Ah, ’twould take +a lot of looking to see you as you was.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Yes, I be finished with +all of it now, and willing for to bide quiet at the fireside and +to stay with the four walls round I and the door shut.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I reckon as you +be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And I’m thinking +as they’ll be rare pleased for to have I in the house +again. ’Twill be another pair of hands to the work +like. And when I was young, ’twas not on work as I +was set much.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Ah, I did guess as +much.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. But when I gets a bit +over this here nasty cough, ’tis a strong arm as +them’ll have working for they; Steve, th’ old woman +what’s his mother, and little Dorry, too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Dorry? I +han’t heard tell of she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. That’s my little +baby as was, Harry Moss. I left she crawling on the floor, +and now I count as she be growed into a rare big girl. +Bless the innocent heart of her!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Whatever led you to do +such a thing, I can’t think! You must have been drove +to it like, wasn’t you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. ’Twas summat +inside of me as drove I, then. ’Twas very likely the +blood of they gipsies which did leap in I, so that when I was +tied up to Steve, ’twas as if they had got I shut in a +box. ’Twas the bridle on my head and the bit in the +mouth of I; and to be held in where once I had gone free. +[<i>A short pause</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And I turned wild, +Harry, for the very birds seemed to be calling I from the hedges +to come out along of they, and the berries tossing in the wind, +and the leaves blowing away quick from where they’d been +stuck all summer. All of it spoke to I, and stirred I +powerful, so that one morning when the sun was up and the breeze +running, I comed out into the air, Harry, and shut the door +behind I. And ’twas done—so ’twas.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. And didn’t they +never try for to stop you, nor for to bring you back, May?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. No, Harry, they did +not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. And where was it you +did go to, May, once you was out and the door shut ahind of +you?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Ah—where! To +the east, to the south, every part. ’Twas morning +with I in that time, and the heart of I was warm. And them +as went along of I on the road, did cast but one look into the +countenance of I. Then ’twas the best as they could +give as I might take; and ’twas for no lodging as I did +want when dark did come falling.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. And yet, look you +here, you be brought down terrible low, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. The fine looks of a +woman be as grass, Harry, and in the heat of the day they do +wither and die. And that what has once been a grand flower +in the hand of a man is dropped upon the ground and spat upon, +maybe. So ’twas with I.</p> +<p>[<i>She bows her head on her knees</i>, <i>and for a moment is +shaken with sudden grief</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Don’t you take +on so, May. Look you here, you be comed to the end of your +journeying this day, and that you be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Raising her +head</i>.] Ah, ’tis so, ’tis so. And +’tis rare glad as them’ll be to see I once +again. Steve, he’s a hard man, but a good +one—And I’ll tell you this, Harry Moss, he’ll +never take up with no woman what’s not me—and that he +won’t—I never knowed him much as look on one, times +past; and ’twill be the same as ever now, I reckon. +And little Dorry, ’twill be fine for her to get her mammy +back, I warrant—so ’twill.</p> +<p>[<i>A slight pause</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Th’ old +woman—well—I shan’t take it amiss if her should +be dead, like. Her was always a smartish old vixen to I, +that her was, and her did rub it in powerful hard as Steve was +above I in his station and that. God rest the bones of she, +for I count her’ll have been lying in the churchyard a good +few years by now. But I bain’t one to bear malice, +and if so be as her’s above ground, ’tis a rare poor +old wretch with no poison to the tongue of she, as her’ll +be this day—so ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Look you +here—the snow’s begun to fall and ’tis +night. Get up and go in to them all yonder. +’Tis thick dark now and there be no one on the road to see +you as you do go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Help I to get off the +ground then, Harry, for the limbs of me be powerful weak.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. [<i>Lifting her +up</i>.] The feel of your body be as burning wood, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Standing +up</i>.] Put me against the stile, Harry, and then let I +bide alone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Do you let me go over +the field along of you, May, just to the door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. No, no, Harry, get you +off to the town and leave me to bide here a while in the quiet of +my thoughts. ’Tis of little Dorry, and of how pleased +her’ll be to see her mammy once again, as I be +thinking. But you, Harry Moss, as han’t got no home +to go to, nor fireside, nor victuals, you set off towards the +town. And go you quick.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. There’s summat +in me what doesn’t care about leaving you so, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And if ever you should +pass this way come spring-time, Harry, when the bloom is white on +the trees, and the lambs in the meadows, come you up to the house +yonder, and may be as I’ll be able to give you summat to +keep in remembrance of me. For to-day, ’tis +empty-handed as I be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I don’t want +nothing from you, May, I don’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Fumbling in her +shawl</i>.] There, Harry—’tis comed back to my +mind now. [<i>She takes out part of a loaf of +bread</i>.] Take you this bread. And to-night, when +you eats of it, think on me, and as how I be to home with Steve +a-holding of my hand and little Dorry close against me; and +plenty of good victuals, with a bed to lie upon warm. +There, Harry, take and eat.</p> +<p>[<i>She holds the bread to him.</i></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. [<i>Taking the +bread</i>.] I count ’twill all be well with you now, +May?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I warrant as +’twill, for I be right to home. But go you towards +the town, Harry, for ’tis late. And God go with you, +my dear, now and all time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I’ll set off +running then. For the night, ’tis upon us, May, and +the snow, ’tis thick in the air.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>turns to the stile and +leans on it heavily</i>, <i>gazing across the field</i>. +<span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>sets off quickly down the +road</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>The living room in the Brownings’ cottage</i>. +<i>The room is divided by a curtain which screens the fireside +end from the draught of the principal door</i>.</p> +<p><i>To the right of the fireplace is a door leading +upstairs</i>. <i>Chairs are grouped round the hearth</i>, +<i>and there is a table at which</i> <span class="smcap">Jane +Browning</span> <i>is ironing a dress by the light of one +candle</i>. <span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>leans +against the table</i>, <i>watching her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Putting aside the +iron</i>.] There, you take and lay it on the bed upstairs, +and mind you does it careful, for I’m not a-going to iron +it twice.</p> +<p>[<i>She lays the dress carefully across</i> <span +class="smcap">Dorry’s</span> <i>arms</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Don’t the lace +look nice, Gran’ma?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. You get along upstairs +and do as I says, and then come straight down again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Couldn’t I put +it on once, Gran’ma, just to see how it do look on me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And get it all creased +up afore to-morrow! Whatever next! You go and lay it +on the bed this minute, do you hear?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Leaving the room +by the door to the right</i>.] I’d like to put it on +just once, I would.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jane Browning</span> <i>blows out the +candle and puts away the iron and ironing cloth</i>. <i>She +stirs up the fire and then sits down by it as</i> <span +class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>comes back</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Dad’s cleaning +of himself ever so—I heard the water splashing something +dreadful as I went by his door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. ’Tis a-smartening +of hisself up for this here dancing as he be about, I reckon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Sitting down on a +stool</i>.] I’d like to go along, too, and see the +dancing up at the schools to-night, I would.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And what next, I should +like to know!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. And wear my new frock +what’s ironed, and the beads what Miss Sims gived me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Looking out at the +window</i>.] I’m thinking as we shall get some snow +by and bye. ’Tis come over so dark all of a +sudden.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Couldn’t I go +along of they, Gran’ma, and wear my new frock, and the +beads, too? I never see’d them dance th’ old +year out yet, I haven’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Get along with you, +Dorry. ’Tis many a year afore you’ll be of an +age for such foolishness. And that’s what I calls it, +this messing about with dancing and music and I don’t know +what.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Katie Sims be younger +nor me and she’s let to go, she is.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. You bain’t Katie +Sims, nor she you. And if the wedding what’s +to-morrow isn’t enough to stuff you up with nonsense, I +don’t know what is.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. I wish it was +to-morrow now, Gran’ma, I do. Shall you put on your +Sunday gown first thing, or wait till just afore we goes to +church?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. How your tongue do +go! Take and bide quiet a bit, if you knows how.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. I shall ask Dad if I +may go along of him and Miss Sims to the dance, I shall. +Dad’s got that kind to me since last night—he gived +me a sixpence to buy sweets this morning when I hadn’t +asked. And won’t it be nice when Miss Sims comes here +to live, and when you has someone to help you in the work, +Gran’ma?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Well—’tis +to be hoped as ’twill be all right this time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. This time, +Gran’ma! Why, wasn’t it all right when Dad was +married afore, then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Getting the lamp +from a shelf</i>.] I don’t light up as a rule till +’tis six o’clock, but I count it’s a bit of +snow coming as have darkened the air like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Gran’ma, +isn’t Miss Sims nice-looking, don’t you think? +I’d like to wear my hair like hers and have earrings +a-hanging from me and a-shaking when I moves my head, I +would.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Setting the lamp on +the table</i>.] Here, fetch me the matches, do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Bringing the +matches</i>.] Was my mammy nice-looking, like Miss Sims, +Gran’ma?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I’m one as goes +by other things nor looks—For like as not ’tis fine +looks as is the undoing of most girls as has them—give me a +plain face and a heart what’s pure, I says, and ’tis +not far out as you’ll be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Was my mammy’s +heart pure, Gran’ma? [<i>A moment’s +silence</i>. <span class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>lights the +lamp</i>. <span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>leans at the +table</i>, <i>watching her</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Was my +mammy’s—[<i>A loud knock on the outside door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Who’s that come +bothering round! Run and see, Dorry, there’s a good +child.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. It’ll be +Gran’ma Vashti, I daresay. She do mostly knock at the +door loud with her stick.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>runs to the window and +looks out</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. ’Tis her, and +the snow white all upon her.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>goes to the door to open +it</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>To +herself</i>.] Of all the meddlesome old women—why +can’t her bide till her’s wanted.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>opens the door wide</i>, +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Vashti</span> <i>Comes slowly in +to the room</i>, <i>leaning on a big staff</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Well, Vashti Reed, and +what brings you down from the hill to-day? ’Twould +have been better had you bid at home, with the dark coming on and +the snow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Who has closed the +door</i>.] Sit down, Granny—there, close against the +fire, do.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Vashti</span> <i>stands in the middle of +the room</i>, <i>looking from one to another</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Sit down, Granny, by +the fire, do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. ’Tis in the +house and out of it as I have went. And down to the pool +where the ice do lie, and up on the fields where ’tis fog, +And there be summat in I what drives I onward, as might the +wind. And no where may the bones of me rest this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. If ’tis to talk +your foolishness as you be come, you’d best have stopped +away. Here, sit you down, Vashti Reed, and behave sensible, +and maybe as I’ll get you summat warm to drink +presently.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Yes, Grannie, sit you +down along of we.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Vashti</span> <i>sits stiffly down by the +hearth</i>, <i>leaning on her stick</i>. <span +class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>resumes her place</i>, <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>puts her little stool between +them</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And in the night when +I was laid down, against the windowpane it fled a three +times. A three time it fled and did beat the pane as though +’twould get in. And I up and did open the +window. And the air it ran past I, and ’twas black, +with naught upon it but the smell of a shroud. So I +knowed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. What did you know, +Granny?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Leaning forward +and warming her hands at the fire</i>, <i>speaking as though to +herself</i>.] Summat lost—summat lost, and what was +trying to get safe away.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Safe away? From +what, Granny?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And there be one what +walks abroad in the night time, what holds in the hand of him a +stick, greater nor this staff what I holds here, and the knife to +it be as long again by twice.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, Granny, I’ll +be a-feared to go across the garden after dark, I shall.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. What do you want to go +and put that there into the child’s head for? +I’d like for Steve to hear you talking of such stuff.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. I sat me down at the +table, but the victuals was as sand in the mouth, and the drink +did put but coldness within I. And when the door was +closed, ’twas as if one did come running round the house +and did beat upon it for to be let in. Then I did go for to +open it, but the place outside was full of emptiness, and +’twas they old carrion crows what did talk to I out of the +storm.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. How you do go on, to be +sure! Why don’t you speak of summat what’s got +some sense to it? Come, don’t you know as Steve, his +wedding day, ’tis to-morrow as ever is.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. ’Tis the New +Year, too, Granny, as well as Dad’s marriage.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. +[<i>Suddenly</i>.] Be this house made ready for a-marrying, +then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Why, of course it be, +Granny. Don’t you see how ’tis cleaned and the +new net curtains in the windows, and the bit of drugget +’gainst the door where the old one always tripped me +up?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. I see naught but what +’tis more like a burial here. So ’tis. +And ’tis a burial as I’ve carried in my heart as I +comed down from the hills.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Looking out of the +window</i>.] Granny, you’ll be forced to bide the +night along of we, ’cause the snow be falling thick, and +’twill be likely as not as you’ll lose your way if +you start for to go home again when ’tis snowing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Th’ old thing may +as well bide the night now she be come. Hark you, Vashti, +’twill save you the journey down to-morrow like, if you +bides the night, and the chimney corner is all as you ever +wants.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And what should I be +journeying down to-morrow for, Jane Browning?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Why, Granny, +’tis Dad’s wedding day to-morrow, and ’tis a +white frock with lace to it as I’m going to wear, and beads +what Miss Sims gived me, and the shoes what was new except for +being worn to church three times. Shall I fetch them all +and show to you, Granny?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Yes, run along and get +them, Dorry; very likely ’twill give her thoughts a turn, +looking at the things, seeing as she be in one of her nasty moods +to-day when you can’t get a word what isn’t +foolishness out of her. [<span class="smcap">Dorry</span> +<i>runs upstairs</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Leaning +forward</i>.] Was her telling of a marriage?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Why, yes, Vashti +Reed. And you know all about it, only you don’t +trouble for to recollect nothing but what you dreams of yourself +in the night. ’Tis our Steve what’s going to +marry Annie Sims to-morrow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Steve Browning?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I haven’t +patience with th’ old gipsy! Yes—Steve. +And ’tis a twelvemonth or more as you’d knowed of +it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Our Steve, +what’s husband to my May?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. ’Tis a fine thing +to fetch up May this evening, that ’tis. May, what +went out trolloping along the roads ’stead of she biding at +home to mind the house and child! ’Tis how you did +breed she up, Vashti Reed, what led her to act as her did. +And if you’d have bred her different, ’twould have +been all the same; for what’s in the blood is bound to out +and show; and when you picks a weed and sets it in the room, +’tain’t no flower as you must look for.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. ’Tis summat +like a twelve year since her went. But in the blinking of +an eye the latch might be raised, and she come through the door +again. God bless the head an feet of she!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. There you are, Vashti, +talking so foolish. A bad herb like she, was bound for to +meet her doom. And ’twas in the river up London way +where the body of her was catched, floating, and the same +petticoat to it as I’ve seed on May a score of times. +Don’t you recollect how ’twas parson as brought the +news to we?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. ’Taint with no +parsons as I do hold, nor with what may come from the mouths of +they, neither.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And Steve, I knowed +what was in his mind when parson was gone out. ’Twas +not much as he did say, being a man what hasn’t many words +to his tongue. But he took and fetched down his big coat +what do hang up yonder, and told I to put a bit of black to the +sleeve of it. Leastways, he didn’t speak the words, +but I seed what he was after, and I took and sewed a bit on, and +he’s wore it ever since till yesterday—And +that’s eleven year ago it be—so there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Her be moving about +upon the earth, her be. And I seems to feel the tread of +she at night time, and by day as well. Her bain’t +shrouded, nor boxed, nor no churchyard sod above the limbs of +she—you take my words—and there shall come a day when +the latch shall rise and her be standing among us and a-calling +on her child and husband what’s forgotten she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. For goodness sake, +Vashti, have done speaking about such things to-night. If +Steve was to hear you, why I shouldn’t wonder if he was to +put you out of the door and into the snow—and ’tis +most unfitting for to talk so afore the child.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Calling out +loudly</i>.] Come back to I, May—you come back to +I—there bain’t no one what thinks on the name of you, +or what wants you but your old mother. You come back to +I!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I’ll thank you +for to shut your mouth, old Vashti! ’Tain’t +nothing to be proud on as you’ve got, and ’twould be +better if you was to be less free in your hollering. Look, +here’s Dorry coming.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>comes into the +kitchen</i>; <i>she is wearing her new white frock</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. See, Granny, +I’ve been and put it on for to show you better. See +the lace? Isn’t it nice? And the beads, +too. I didn’t stop for to put on my shoes, nor my new +stockings. Nor my hat, what’s got a great long +feather all round of it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. You bad, naughty girl, +Dorry, you’ll crease and tumble that frock so as it’s +not fit to be seen to-morrow! Whatever did you go to put it +on for?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. So as that Gran should +see something pretty, and so as she should come out of her +trouble. Gran’s always got some trouble in her mind, +han’t you, Granny?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. A twelve year gone +by, my child.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I’ll give it you +if you starts off again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. A twelve year gone +by—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. A twelve year gone by, +what then, Granny?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. ’Tis +more’n eleven years since her wented out of the door, my +child—your poor mammy. Out of the door, out of the +door! And likely as not ’twill be feet first as her +shall be brought in again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Granny, was my poor +mammy, what’s dead, nice looking like Miss Sims as is going +for to marry Dad, to-morrow?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. ’Twas grand as +a tree in full leaf and the wind a-moving all the green of it as +was your mammy, my dear.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. And did she have fine +things to her, nice gowns and things, like Miss Sims, Granny?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. ’Twas the looks +of her and the love of finery and pleasuring what was her +undoing, as ’twill be the undoing of you, too, Dorry, if +you don’t take care. ’Tis she as you favours, +and none of your father’s people, more’s the pity, +and ’tis more thoughtful and serious as you’ll have +to grow if you don’t want to come to harm. You take +and go right up, and off with that frock, do you hear me?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, I wanted to be let +to go to the dancing now I’d got it on, I did.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Dancing, there you +are! Dancing and finery, ’tis all as you do think on, +and ’tis plain to see what’s got working in the +inside of you, Dorry. ’Tis the drop of bad blood as +you has got from she what bore you. But I might as well +speak to that door for all you cares. Only, hark you here, +you’ll be sorry one of these days as you han’t minded +me better. And then ’twill be too late.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>comes down the +stairs</i>, <i>pushes open the door and enters</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, Mother, +what’s up now? Gran, you here? Why, Dorry, what +be you a-crying for?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. I wants to be let to +go to the dancing, Dad—now that I’ve got my frock on +and all.—O, I wants to be let to go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, +Mother—what do you say? ’Twouldn’t hurt +for she to look in about half an hour, and Annie and me we could +bring her back betimes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, Dad, I wants to go +if ’twas only for a minute.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. There, there—you +shall go and we’ll say no more about it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I never knowed you give +in to her so foolish like this afore, Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, Mother, +’tain’t every day as a man’s married, that +’tain’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And so you’re +to be wed come to-morrow, Steve? They tells me as +you’re to be wed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. That’s right +enough, Gran.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] And there be no resting in me to-day, +Steve. There be summat as burns quick in the bones of my +body and that will not let me bide.—And ’tis steps as +I hears on the roadside and in the fields—and ’tis a +bad taste as is in my victuals, and I must be moving, and peering +about, and a-taking cold water into my mouth for to do away with +the thing on my tongue, which is as the smell of death—So +’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Now she’s off +again! Come, sit you down, Vashti Reed, and I’ll give +you summat as’ll very likely warm you and keep you quiet in +your chair a while. Just you wait till I gets the water +boiling.</p> +<p>[<i>She begins to stir up the fire and sets a kettle on +it</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>From the +window</i>.] Here’s Miss Sims coming up the path, and +Rosie too. O, they’re wrapped up all over +’cause ’tis snowing. I’ll open, +I’ll open.</p> +<p>[<i>She runs to the door and unlatches it</i>. <span +class="smcap">Annie</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Rose +Sims</span> <i>come in</i>, <i>shaking the snow from them and +unbuttoning their cloaks</i>, <i>which</i> <span +class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>takes from them and hangs on the +door</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 2.</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. [<i>As</i> <span +class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>takes off her cloak</i>.] +’Tis going to be a dreadful night. The snow’s +coming down something cruel.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. There won’t be +many to the dance if it keeps on like this, will there?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Get you to the fire, +both of you, and warm yourselves before we sets out again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Miss Sims, Miss +Sims—Miss Rosie—I’m going along with you to the +dance, Dad says as I may.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Bless the child! +However her has worked upon her father, and he so strict, I +don’t know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Well, you be got up +fine and grand, Dorry—I shouldn’t hardly know +’twas you. [<i>Turning to</i> <span +class="smcap">Vashti Reed</span>.] Good evening, Mrs. Reed, +my eyes was very near blinded when I first got in out of the +dark, and I didn’t see as you was there.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Good evening, Mrs. +Reed, and how be you keeping this cold weather?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Peering into +their faces as they stand near her</i>.] What be you +a-telling I of?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. We was saying, how be +you in this sharp weather, Mrs. Reed?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. How be I?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Yes, Mrs. Reed, how be +you a-keeping now ’tis come over such nasty weather?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And how should an old +woman be, and her one child out in the rain and all the wind, and +driv’ there too by them as was laid like snakes in the +grass about the feet of she, ready for to overthrow she when her +should have gotten to a time of weakness.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Take no account of what +she do say, girls, but sit you down in the warm and bide till I +gets the time to take and look on the clothes which you have upon +you. [<i>Moving about and putting tea things on the +table</i>.] I be but just a-going to make a cup of tea for +th’ old woman, with a drop of summat strong to it as will +keep her from using of her tongue so free till morning time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. [<i>Sitting +down</i>.] Poor old woman, ’tis a sad thing when +folks do come to such a pass as she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. And han’t got +their proper sense to them, nor nothing. But she’s +better off nor a poor creature what we saw crouching below the +hedge as we was coming across the meadow. +“Why,” I says to Annie, “it must be bad to have +no home to bide in such a night as this!” Isn’t +that so, Mrs. Browning?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Ah, you’re right +there, you’re right.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. I wouldn’t much +care to be upon the road to-night, would you, Steve?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And at that hour when +th’ old year be passing out, and dark on all the land, the +graves shall open and give up the dead which be in they. +And, standing in the churchyard you may read the face to each, as +the corpses do go by. There’s many a night as I have +stood and have looked into they when them did draw near to I, but +never the face I did seek.</p> +<p>[<i>Here</i> <span class="smcap">Jane</span>, <i>who has been +making a cup of tea</i>, <i>and who has poured something in it +from a bottle</i>, <i>advances to</i> <span +class="smcap">Vashti</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Here, Vashti Reed, +here’s a nice cup of hot tea for you. Take and drink +it up and very likely ’twill warm th’ inside of you, +for I’ll lay as you haven’t seen a mouthful of naught +this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Ah, that’s it, +that’s it. When folks do go leer ’tis a +powerful lot of fancies as do get from the stomach to the heads +of they.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Vashti</span> <i>takes the cup and slowly +drinks</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, Miss Sims, you do +look nice. Look, Gran’ma, at what Miss Sims have got +on!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Putting down her +cup and leaning forward</i>.] Which of you be clothed for +marriage?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Get along of you, Gran, +’tis for the dance up at the school as they be come.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Come you +here—her what’s to wed our Steve. Come you here +and let I look at you. My eyes bain’t so quick as +they was once. Many tears have clouded they. But come +you here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Go along to her, Miss +Sims, Granny wants to look at your nice things.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. [<i>Steps in front +of</i> <span class="smcap">Vashti</span>.] Here I be, Mrs. +Reed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Be you the one +what’s going to wed our Steve come New Year.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. That’s it, Mrs. +Reed, that’s it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And be these garments +which you be clothed in for marriage or for burial?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Come, Granny, have +another cup of tea. Annie, don’t you take no account +of she. ’Tis worry and that as have caused the mind +of she to wander a bit, but she don’t mean nothing by +it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. All right, +Steve. She don’t trouble me at all. [<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">Vashti</span>.] ’Tis to be hoped +as I shall make a good wife to Steve, Mrs. Reed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Steve! What do +Steve want with another wife? Han’t he got one +already which is as a rose among the sow-thistles. What do +Steve want for with a new one then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Come on, girls. +I can’t stand no more of this. Let’s off, and +call in to George’s as we do go by.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. We did meet Mr. Davis +as we was coming along and he said as how ’twouldn’t +be many minutes afore he joined us here, Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. That’s right, +then we’ll bide a bit longer till George do call for we, +only ’tis more nor I can stand when th’ old lady gets +her tongue moving.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Why, look, +Gran’s fell asleep! O, Miss Sims, now that +Gran’s dropped off and can’t say none of her foolish +things any more, do stand so as Dad and Gran’ma can see the +frock which you’ve got for the dance.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. O, Dorry, you’re +a little torment, that’s the truth.</p> +<p>[<i>She gets up and turns slowly round so that all can see +what she has on</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Well, Steve?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, Rosie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Haven’t you got +nothing as you can say, Steve?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. What be I to say, +Rose?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Well, something of how +you thinks she looks, of course.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. O, ’tis all +right, I suppose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. All right! And is +that about all as you’ve seen? Why, bless you, Steve, +where have you gone and hid your tongue I should like to +know!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, there +bain’t nothing wrong, be there?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Of course there +isn’t. But I never did see such a man as you, +Steve. Why, I don’t believe as you’d know +whether Annie haves a pair of eyes to her face or not, nor if +they be the same colour one to t’other.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. I sees enough for +me. I sees as Annie is the girl as I’ve picked out of +the whole world. And I know that to-morrow she and I is to +be made man and wife. And that be pretty nigh enough for me +this night, I reckon.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, Miss Sims, do you +hear what Dad is saying? O, I wonder what I should feel if +’twas me that was going to be married!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. You get and ask Annie +how ’tis with her, Dorry. I could tell a fine tale of +how as she do lie tossing half the nights, and of the candles +that’s burned right down to the very end of them, I +could.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Don’t you go for +to listen to her, Dorry, nor Steve, neither. She’s +that flustered herself about the dance to-night that she scarce +do know what she’s a-saying of. But suppose you was +just to ask her what she’s got wrapped so careful in that +there paper in her hand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, Rosie, whatever is +it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. What’s that +you’ve got hold on now, Rosie?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Come, show them all, +Rose.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>slowly unfolds the paper +and shows them all a hothouse carnation and a fern</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. There ’tis, +then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O my, +Rosie—isn’t it beautiful. Be you going to wear +it to the dance?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. No, Dorry, +’tisn’t for me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. You just ask her for +whom it is, then, Dorry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, who is it for, +Rosie—who is it for?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. No—I’m not +a-going to tell none of you.</p> +<p>[<i>She wraps it up carefully again</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. I’ll tell then, +for you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. No, you shan’t, +Annie—that you shan’t!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. That I shall, +then—come you here, Dorry—I’ll whisper it to +your ear. [<i>Whispers it to</i> <span +class="smcap">Dorry</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. +[<i>Excitedly</i>.] I know who ’tis—I +know—’tis for Mr. Davis—for Mr. Davis! +Think of that, Dad—the flower ’tis for George +Davis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. O, Annie, how you +could!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. George—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Suddenly +roused</i>.] Who named George? There was but one man +as was called by that name—and he courted my girl till her +was faint and weary of the sound and shape of he, and so on a day +when he was come—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. There’s Gran +gone off on her tales again.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>crosses the hearth and +puts a shawl over the head of</i> <span +class="smcap">Vashti</span>, <i>who relapses again into +sleep</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>Sitting down +by</i> <span class="smcap">Rose</span>.] What’s this, +Rose? I han’t heard tell of this afore. Be +there aught a-going on with you and George, then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. No, Steve, there +isn’t nothing in it much, except that George and me we +walked out last Sunday in the evening like—and a two or +three time before.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. And is it that you be +a-keeping of that flower for to give to George, then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Well—’tis +for George as I’ve saved it out of some what the gardener +up at Squire’s gived me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>As though to +himself</i>.] ’Tis a powerful many years since George +he went a-courting. I never knowed him so much as look upon +a maid, I didn’t since—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Well, Steve, I’m +sure there’s no need for you to be upset over it. +’Tis nothing to you who George walks out with, or who he +doesn’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Who said as I was +upset, Rose?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Look at the long face +what you’ve pulled. Annie, if ’twas me, I +shouldn’t much care about marrying a man with such a look +to him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. What’s up, +Steve? What’s come over you like, all of a +minute?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. ’Tis naught, +Annie, naught. ’Twas summat of past times what comed +into the thoughts of me. But ’tis naught. And, +Rose, if so be as ’twas you as George is after, I’d +wish him to have luck, with all my heart, I would, for George and +me—well, we too has always stuck close one to +t’other, as you knows.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Ah—that you has, +George and you—you and George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. +Hark—there’s someone coming up now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, let me open the +door—let me open it!</p> +<p>[<i>She runs across the room and lifts the latch</i>. +<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>stands in the doorway +shaking the snow from him</i>. <i>Then he comes into the +room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. I’m going to the +dance, Mr. Davis. Look, haven’t I got a nice frock +on?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Good evening, George, +and how be you to-night?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Nicely, Steve, +nicely. Good evening, Mrs. Browning. Miss Sims, good +evening—Yes, Steve, I’ll off with my coat, for +’tis pretty well sprinkled with snow, like.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>helps</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>to take off his overcoat</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. A happy New Year to +you, Mr. Davis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And that’s a +thing which han’t no luck to it, if ’tis said afore +the proper time, Rosie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Well, but ’tis +New Year’s Eve, isn’t it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Ah, so +’tis—and a terrible nasty storm as ever I +knowed! ’Twas comed up very nigh to my knees, the +snow, as I was a-crossing of the meadow. And there lay some +poor thing sheltering below the hedge, with a bit of sacking +throwed over her. I count ’tis very near buried alive +as anyone would be as slept out in such a night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. I reckon ’twould +be so—so ’twould. But come you in and give +yourself a warm; and Mother, what do you say to getting us a +glass of cider all round afore we sets out to the dancing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. What do you want to be +taking drinks here for, when ’tis free as you’ll get +them up at the school?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Just a drop for to +warm we through. Here, I’ll fetch it right away.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. No, you +don’t. I’ll have no one meddling in the pantry +save it’s myself. Dorry, give me that there jug.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Taking a jug from +the dresser</i>.] Here ’tis, Gran’ma, shall I +light the candle?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. So long as you’ll +hold the matches careful.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Well—’tis +to be hoped as the weather’ll change afore morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. We shall want a bit of +sunshine for the bride.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. That us shall, but it +don’t look much as though we should get it.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jane Browning</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>go out of the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Sit you down, George, +along of we. ’Tis right pleased as I be for to see +you here to-night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Well, Steve, I +bain’t one for a lot of words but I be powerful glad to see +you look as you does, and ’tis all joy as I wishes you and +her what’s to be your wife, to-morrow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Thank you kindly, Mr. +Davis. I shall do my best for Steve, and a girl can’t +do no more, can she?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. And so you’re +going to church along of Steve, Mr. Davis?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Tis as Steve +do wish, but I be summat after a cow what has broke into the +flower gardens, places where there be many folk got together and +I among they.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. O, come, Mr. Davis!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Tis with me as +though t’were all hoof and horn as I was made of. But +Steve, he be more used to mixing up with the quality folks and +such things, and he do know better nor I how to carry his self in +parts when the ground be thick on them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Very likely ’tis +a-shewing of them into their places of a Sunday and a-ringing of +the bell and a-helping of the vicar along with the service, like, +as has made Steve so easy.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rosie</span>. But, bless you, Mr. +Davis, you sees a good bit of the gentry, too, in your way, when +you goes in to houses, as it might be the Squire’s for to +put up a shelf, or mend a window, and I don’t know +what.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Ah, them caddling +sort of jobs don’t much agree with I, Miss Rose. And +when I gets inside one of they great houses, where the maids do +pad about in boots what you can’t hear, and do speak as +though ’twere church and parson at his sermon, I +can’t think of naught but how ’twill feel for to be +out in the open again. Why, bless you, I do scarce fetch my +breath in one of they places from fear as there should be too +much sound to it, and the noise of my own hammer do very near +scare I into fits.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Well, Mr. Davis, who +would ever have thought it?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Browning</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>come back and the cider is put upon +the table</i>, <span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Annie</span> <i>getting glasses from the +dresser</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. +[<i>Drinking</i>.] Your health, Steve, and yours, too, Miss +Sims. And many years of happiness to you both.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Thank you kindly, +George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Thank you, Mr. +Davis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Hasn’t Miss Sims +got a nice frock on her for the dance, Mr. Davis?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Well, I’m +blessed if I’d taken no notice of it, Dorry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Why, you’re +worse nor Dad, I do declare! But you just look at Rosie, +now, Mr. Davis, and ask her what she’s got wrapped up in +that there paper in her hand.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. O, Dorry, you little +tease, you!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. You just ask her, Mr. +Davis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Undoing the +parcel</i>.] There, ’tis nothing to make such a +commotion of! Just a flower—see, Mr. Davis? I +knowed as it was one what you was partial to, and so I just +brought it along with me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. That there +bain’t for I, be it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Indeed +’tis—if so as you’ll accept of it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. O, ’tis best +saved against to-morrow. The freshness will be most gone +from it, if I was to wear it now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. No, no, Mr. Davis, +’tis for now! To wear at the dance. Put it on +him, Rosie, put it on him.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Tossing the flower +across the table to</i> <span class="smcap">George</span>.] +He can put it on hisself well enough, Dorry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>After a +moment’s hesitation</i>.] I don’t know so well +about that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Go on, Rosie—pin +it into his coat. Come, ’tis getting late.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, pin it in quick, +Rosie—come along—and then we can start to the +dancing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Shall I, Mr. Davis?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>gets up and crosses the +room</i>; <span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>takes the flower +and</i> <span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>hands her a +pin</i>. <i>She slowly pins the flower in his coat</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>Stretching out his +hand to</i> <span class="smcap">Annie</span>.] You be so +quiet like to-night, Annie. There isn’t nothing +wrong, is there, my dear?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. ’Tis only +I’m that full of gladness, Steve, as I don’t seem to +find words to my tongue for the things what I can talk on most +days.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. And that’s how +’tis with I, too, Annie. ’Tis as though I was +out in the meadows, like—And as though ’twere Sunday, +and such a stillness all around that I might think ’twas +only me as was upon the earth. But then summat stirs in me +sudden and I knows that you be there, too, and ’tis my love +for you what has put me right away from the rest of them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Steve, you’ve +had a poor, rough time, I know, but I’ll do my best for to +smooth it like for you, I will.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. See here, +Annie—I be comed out of the rain and into the sun once +more.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Leading</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>forward</i>.] See how fine +Mr. Davis do look—see, isn’t he grand? O, Miss +Sims, see how nice the flower do look what Rosie has pinned in +his coat! See, Gran’ma.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I’ve enough to do +putting away all these glasses which have been messed up. +What I wants to know is when I shall get off to bed this night, +seeing as ’tis late already and you none of you gone off +yet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, let us be off, let +us be off—and what am I to put over my dress, +Gran’ma, so as the snow shan’t get to it?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. If you go careful and +don’t drop it in the snow may be as I’ll wrap my big +shawl around of you, Dorry, what’s hanging behind the +door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Give me my cloak, +Steve—O, how I do love a bit of dancing, don’t you, +Mr. Davis?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I be about as much +use in the ball room as one of they great drag horses, Miss +Rose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. O, get on, Mr. +Davis! I don’t believe half what you do say, no more +does Annie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. If Mr. Davis +don’t know how to dance right, you’re the one to +learn him, Rose. Come, Dorry, you take hold of my hand, and +I’ll look after you on the way. Good-night, Mrs. +Browning. Good-night, Mrs. Reed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Why, Granny’s +sound asleep, Miss Sims, you know.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. And about time, +too. ’Tis to be hoped as we shan’t have no more +trouble with her till morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Her eyes raised to +the door latch</i>.] Just look, why the latch is up.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Whoever’s that, +I wonder?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. ’Tis very likely +someone with a horse what’s lost a shoe, Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. I guess as ’tis a +coffin wanted sudden, George Davis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. I bain’t a-going +to shoe no horses this time of night, not if ’twas the King +hisself what stood at the door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. If ’tis a +corpse, I guess her’ll have to wait till the +dancing’s finished, then.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Vashti</span> <i>groans in her sleep and +turns over in the chair</i>, <i>her face to the fire</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>Going to the door +and speaking loudly</i>.] Who’s there?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Us’ll soon +see.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">George</span> <i>unbolts the door and +opens it</i>, <i>first a little way</i>, <i>and then +wide</i>. <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>is seen +standing in the doorway</i>. <i>Her shawl is drawn over +head and the lower part of her face</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Here’s someone +what’s missed their way, I count.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Why, ’tis like +the poor thing we seed beneath the hedge, I do believe.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span> Whatever can she want +a-coming-in here at this time of night!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Advancing +firmly</i>.] ’Tis one of they dirty roadsters what +there’s too many of all about the country. Here, +I’ll learn you to come to folks’ houses this time of +night, disturbing of a wedding party. You take and get +gone. We don’t want such as you in here, we +don’t.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>looks fixedly into</i> +<span class="smcap">Jane’s</span> <i>face</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I count ’tis +very nigh starved by the cold as she be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Looks like it, and +wetted through to the bone.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Put her out and shut +the door, George, and that’ll learn the likes of she to +come round begging at folks’ houses what’s +respectable.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Tis poor work +shutting the door on such as her this night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. And that ’tis, +George, and what’s more, I bain’t a-going for to do +it. ’Tis but a few hours to my wedding, and if a dog +was to come to me for shelter I’d not be one to put him +from the door.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. ’Tain’t to +be expected as I shall let a dirty tramp bide in my kitchen when +’tis all cleaned up against to-morrow, Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. To-morrow, ’tis +my day, Mother, and I’ll have the choosing of my guests, +like. [<i>Turning to</i> <span +class="smcap">May</span>.] Come you in out of the +cold. This night you shall bide fed and warmed, so that, +may be, in years to come, ’twill please you to think back +upon the eve afore my wedding.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>stands back</i>, +<i>holding the door wide open</i>. <span +class="smcap">May</span>, <i>from the threshold</i>, <i>has been +looking first on one face and then on another</i>. +<i>Suddenly her eyes fall on</i> <span +class="smcap">Annie</span>, <i>who has moved to</i> <span +class="smcap">Steve’s</span> <i>side</i>, <i>laying her +hand on his arm</i>, <i>and with a sudden defiance</i>, <i>she +draws herself up and comes boldly into the room as the curtain +falls</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 3.</h3> +<p><i>The same room</i>, <i>two hours later</i>. <span +class="smcap">Vashti Reed</span> <i>seems to be sleeping as +before by the fireside</i>. <i>On the settle</i> <span +class="smcap">May</span> <i>is huddled</i>, <i>her head bent</i>, +<i>the shawl drawn over her face</i>. <span +class="smcap">Jane Browning</span> <i>moves about</i>, <i>putting +away work things</i>, <i>cups and plates</i>, <i>seeing that the +window is closed</i>, <i>winding the clock</i>, <i>etc.</i> +<i>There is a tap at the outer door and</i> <span +class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>opens it</i>. <span +class="smcap">Steve</span>, <span class="smcap">Annie</span> +<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>enter</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Whatever kept you so +late, Steve, and me a-sitting up for to let you all in and not +able to get away to my bed?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, Gran’ma, it +was beautiful, I could have stopped all night, I could. We +comed away early ’cause Miss Sims, she said as the dancing +gived her the headache, but the New Year han’t been danced +in yet, it han’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. You get and dance off +to bed, Dorry, that’s what you’ve got to do—and +quickly.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. All right, +Gran’ma. Good-night, Miss Sims; good-night, +Dad. O, why, there’s Granny! But her’s +tight asleep so I shan’t say nothing to her. O, I do +wish as there was dancing, and lamps, and music playing every +night, I do!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>goes towards the +staircase door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Calling after +her</i>.] I’m a-coming along directly. Be +careful with the candle, Dorry.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>opens the door and</i> +<span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>goes upstairs</i>. +<span class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Annie</span> <i>come towards the fireplace</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Was there aught as you +could do for yonder poor thing?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Poor thing, +indeed! A good-for-nothing roadster what’s been and +got herself full of the drink, and that’s what’s the +matter with she. See there, how she do lie, snoring asleep +under the shawl of her; and not a word nor sound have I got out +of she since giving her the drop of tea a while back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, well—she +won’t do us no harm where she do bide. Leave her in +the warm till ’tis daylight, then let her go her way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. She and Gran’ be +about right company one for t’other, I’m +thinking.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Ah, that they +be. Let them sleep it off and you get up to bed, +Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. That I will, +Steve. Be you a-going to see Annie safe to home?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Do you bide here, +Steve, and let me run back—’tis but a step—and +I don’t like for you to come out into the snow again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. I’m coming along +of you, Annie. Get off to bed, Mother. I’ll be +back to lock up and all that in less nor ten minutes.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. All right, Steve, and +do you cast an eye around to see as I han’t left nothing +out as might get took away, for ’tis poor work leaving the +kitchen to roadsters and gipsies and the like.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>lights a candle and goes +upstairs</i>. <span class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>takes</i> +<span class="smcap">Annie’s</span> <i>hand and they go +together towards the outer door</i>. <i>As they pass to the +other side of the curtain which is drawn across the room</i>, +<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>suddenly rears herself up on +the settle</i>, <i>throwing back her shawl</i>, <i>and she leans +forward</i>, <i>listening intently</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. To-morrow night, +Annie!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. There’ll be no +turning out into the snow for us both, Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. You’ll bide +here, Annie, and ’tis more gladness than I can rightly +think on, that ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Steve!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, Annie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. There’s summat +what’s been clouding you a bit this night. You +didn’t know as how I’d seen it, but ’twas +so.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Why, Annie, I +didn’t think as how you’d take notice as I was +different from ordinary.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. But I did, +Steve. And at the dancing there was summat in the looks of +you which put me in mind of a thing what’s hurted. +Steve, I couldn’t abide for to see you stand so sad with +the music going on and all. So I told you as I’d the +headache.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. O Annie, ’twas +thoughts as was too heavy for me, and I couldn’t seem to +get them pushed aside, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. How’d it be if +you was to tell me, Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. I don’t much +care for to, Annie. But ’twas thoughts what comed out +of the time gone by, as may be I’d been a bit too hard +with—with her as was Dorry’s mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. O, I’m sure, +from all I hear, as she had nothing to grumble at, Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. And there came a +fearsome thought, too, Annie, as you might go the same way +through not getting on comfortable with me, and me being so much +older nor you, and such-like. Annie, I couldn’t bear +for it to happen so, I could not. For I holds to having you +aside of me always stronger nor I holds to anything else in the +world, and I could not stand it if ’twas as I should lose +you.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. There’s nothing +in the world as could make you lose me, Steve. For, look +you here, I don’t think as there’s a woman on the +earth what’s got such a feeling as is in my heart this +night, of quiet, Steve, and of gladness, because that you and me +is to be wed and to live aside of one another till death do part +us.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Them be good words, +Annie, and no mistake.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. And what you feels +about the days gone by don’t count, Steve, ’cause +they bain’t true of you. You was always a kind +husband, and from what I’ve hear-ed folks say, she was one +as wasn’t never suited to neither you nor yours.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Poor soul, she be dead +and gone now, and what I thinks one way or t’other +can’t do she no good. Only ’tis upon me as I +could take you to-morrow more glad-like, Annie, if so be as I had +been kinder to she, the time her was here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Do you go off to bed, +Steve, you’re regular done up, and that’s what +’tis. I never hear-ed you take on like this +afore.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. All right, my dear, +don’t you mind what I’ve been saying. Very like +’tis a bit unnerved as I be this night. But +’tis a good thought, bain’t it, Annie, that come +to-morrow at this time, there won’t be no more need for us +to part?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. [<i>As he opens the +door</i>.] O, ’tis dark outside!</p> +<p>[<i>They both leave the cottage</i>. <span +class="smcap">May</span> <i>throws back her shawl as though +stifled</i>. <i>She gets up and first stands bending +over</i> <span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. <i>Seeing that +she is still sleeping heavily</i>, <i>she goes to the door</i>, +<i>opens it gently and looks out</i>. <i>After a moment she +closes it and walks about the kitchen</i>, <i>examining +everything with a fierce curiosity</i>. <i>She takes up the +shawl</i> <span class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>has been +wearing</i>, <i>looks at it hesitatingly</i>, <i>and then clasps +it passionately to her face</i>. <i>Hearing steps outside +she flings it down again on the chair and returns to the +settle</i>, <i>where she sits huddled in the corner</i>, +<i>having wrapped herself again in her shawl</i>, <i>only her +eyes looking out unquietly from it</i>. <span +class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>re-enters</i>. <i>He bolts +the door</i>, <i>then goes up to the table in front of the fire +to put out the lamp</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Can I get you an old +sack or summat for to cover you up a bit this cold night?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>looks at him for a moment +and then shakes her head</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. All right. You +can just bide where you be on the settle. ’Tis warmer +within nor upon the road to-night, and I’ll come and let +you out when ’tis morning.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>raises both her hands in an +attitude of supplication</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>Pausing</i>, +<i>with his hand on the burner of the lamp</i>.] Be there +summat as you wants what I can give to you?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>looks at him for a moment +and then speaks in a harsh whisper</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Let I bide quiet in the +dark, ’tis all I wants now. [<span +class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>puts out the lamp</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>As though to +himself</i>, <i>as he goes towards the door upstairs</i>.] +Then get off to your drunken sleep again, and your dreams.</p> +<p>[<i>Curtain</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT II.—Scene 4.</h3> +<p><i>The fire is almost out</i>. <i>A square of moonlight +falls on the floor from the window</i>. <span +class="smcap">Vashti</span> <i>still sleeps in the chimney +corner</i>. <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>is rocking +herself to and fro on the settle</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Get off to your drunken +sleep and to your dreams! Your dreams—your +dreams—Ah, where is it as they have gone, I’d like +for to know. The dreams as comed to I when I was laid +beneath the hedge. Dreams!</p> +<p>[<i>She gets up</i>, <i>feels down the wall in a familiar way +for the bellows—blows up the fire and puts some coal on it +gently</i>. <i>Then she draws forward a chair and sits down +before it</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Muttering to +herself</i>.] ’Tis my own hearth when ’tis all +said and done.</p> +<p>[<i>She turns up the front of her skirt and warms herself</i>, +<i>looking sharply at</i> <span class="smcap">Vashti Reed</span> +<i>now and then</i>.</p> +<p>[<i>Presently</i> <span class="smcap">Vashti’s</span> +<i>eyes open</i>, <i>resting</i>, <i>at first unseeingly</i>, +<i>and then with recognition</i>, <i>on</i> <span +class="smcap">May’s</span> <i>face</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. So you be comed back, +May. I always knowed as you would.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. How did you know +’twas me, then?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. ’Cause I +knowed. There ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I be that changed from +the times when I would sit a-warming of myself by this here +fire.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Ah, and be you +changed, May? My eyes don’t see nothing of it, +then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Ah, I be got into an +ugly old woman now, mother, and Steve—Steve, he looked in +the face of I and didn’t so much as think who +’twas. “Get off to the drunken sleep of you and +to your dreams.” ’Twas that what he did say to +I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Your old mother do +know better nor Steve. Ah, ’tweren’t in no +shroud as I seed you, May, nor yet with the sod upon the face of +you, but stepping, stepping up and down on the earth, through the +water what layed on the roads, and on the dry where there be high +places, and in the grass of the meadows. That’s how +’twas as I did see you, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And I would like to know +how ’twas as Steve saw I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Ah, and there was +they as did buzz around as thick as waspes in summer time and as +said, “She be under ground and rotting now—that her +be.” And they seed in I but a poor old woman what was +sleeping in the chimney corner, with no hearing to I. +“Rotting yourself,” I says, and I rears up sudden, +“She be there as a great tree and all the leaves of it full +out—and you—snakes in the grass, snakes in the grass, +all of you!” There ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. +[<i>Mockingly</i>.] “It’s a good thought, +bain’t it, Annie, that to-morrow this time there +won’t be no need for us to part?” And in the +days when I was a young woman and all the bloom of I upon me, +’twouldn’t have been once as he’d have looked +on such as her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And ’tis full +of bloom and rare fine and handsome as you appear now, May, +leastways to my old eyes. And when you goes up to Steve and +shows yourself, I take it the door’ll be shut in the face +of the mealy one what they’ve all been so took up with this +long while. I count that ’twill and no mistake. +So ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Fiercely</i>.] +Hark you here, Mother, and ’tis to be wed to-morrow as they +be! Wed—the both of them, the both of them! And +me in my flesh, and wife to Steve! “Can I cover you +up with a bit of old sack or summat?” Old sack! +When there be a coverlet with feathers to it stretched over where +he do lie upstairs. “I’ll let you out when +’tis morning.” Ah, you will, will you, Steve +Browning? Us’ll see how ’twill be when +’tis morning—Us’ll see, just won’t us +then!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Ah, ’tis in her +place as th’ old woman will be set come morning—And +that her’ll be—I count as ’tis long enough as +her have mistressed it over the house. [<i>Shaking her fist +towards the ceiling</i>.] You old she fox, you may gather +the pads of you in under of you now, and crouch you down +t’other side of the fire like any other old woman of your +years—for my May’s comed back, and her’ll show +you your place what you’ve not known where ’twas in +all the days of your old wicked life. So ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Her han’t changed +a hair of her, th’ old stoat! Soon as I heard the +note of she, the heat bubbled up in I, though ’twas +chattering in the cold as I had been but a moment afore. +“One of they dirty roadsters—I’ll learn you to +come disturbing of a wedding party, I will.” +[<i>Shaking her fist towards the ceiling</i>.] No, you +bain’t changed, you hardened old sinner—but the words +out of the cruel old mouth of you don’t hurt I any +more—not they. I be passed out of the power of such +as you. I knowed I’d have to face you when I comed +back, but I knowed, too, as I should brush you out of the way of +me, like I would brush one of they old maid flies.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Ah, and so I telled +she many a time. “You bide till my May be comed +home,” I says. “She be already put safe to bed +and ’tis in the churchyard where her do take her +rest,” says she. Ah, what a great liar that is, +th’ old woman what’s Steve’s mother! And +the lies they do grow right out of she tall as rushes, and the +wind do blow they to the left and to the right. So +’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Ah, she han’t any +more power for to hurt I in the ugly old body of her. I be +got beyond she. There be but one or two things as can touch +I now—But one or two. And I be struck to the heart, I +be, struck to the heart.</p> +<p>[<i>She bends forwards</i>, <i>rocking herself to and fro and +weeping</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>As though speaking +to herself</i>.] Back and fro, back and fro—On the +dark of the earth and where ’twas light. When +’twas cold and no sound but the steps of I on the road, and +the fox’s bark; when ’twas hot and the white dust +smouldered in the mouth of I, and things flying did plague I with +the wings of they—But ’twas always the same thought +as I had—“Some day I shall come back to Steve,” +I did tell me. And then again—“Some day I shall +get and hold Dorry in my arms.” And now I be +comed. And Steve—and Steve—Ah, I be struck deep +to the heart, ’tis so. Struck deep!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. You get upstairs to +Steve, May. Get you up there and take the place +what’s yours.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. My place, my +place! Where’s that I want to know! ’Tis +another what’s got into the nest now, to lie snug and warm +within. And ’tis for I to spread the wings of me and +to go out into the storm again. So ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Get you to Steve, +May, and let him but look on the form of you and on the bloom, +and us’ll see what he will do with t’other hussy +then. Ah, they sneaking, mealy wenches what have got +fattened up and licked over by th’ old woman till +’tis queens as they fancies theirselves, you shall tell +they summat about what they be, come morning. And your poor +old mother, her’ll speak, too, what hasn’t been let +sound her tongue these years gone by. Ah, hern shall know +what us do think of they, hern shall squat upon the floor and +hear the truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. He thought as I was +sleeping; but I looked out on her and seed the way his eyes was +cast upon the girl. Steve, if you had cast your eyes on me +like that but once, in days gone by—maybe, maybe I’d +not have gone out and shut the door behind I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Get you to Steve and +let him see you with the candle lit. Her bain’t no +match for he, the young weasel! ’Tis you as has the +blood of me and my people what was grand folk in times gone by, +’tis you, May, as is the mate for he, above all them +white-jowled things what has honey at the mouth of they, but the +heart running over with poison—Ah, and what throws you the +bone and keeps the meat for their own bellies. What sets +the skin afore you and laps the cream theirselves. Vipers, +all of them, and she-cats. There ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Sit you down, Mother, +and keep the tongue of you quiet. We don’t want for +to waken they.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Sitting down +heavily</i>.] But we’ve got to waken Steve for he to +know as how you be comed home again.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And where’s the +good of that, when there bain’t so much as a board nor a +rag, but what’s been stole from I?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. You go and say to him +as ’tis his wife what have come back to her place. +And put th’ old woman against the chimney there, and let +her see you a-cutting of the bread and of the meat, and a-setting +out of the food so as that they who be at the table can loose the +garments of them when the eating ’tis finished, if they has +a mind to, ’stead of drawing they together so not to feel +’tis leer. Ah, ’tis time you be comed, May, +’tis time.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Bitterly</i>.] +I’m thinking ’tis time!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. ’Tis the lies +of they be growed big as wheat stalks and the hardness of their +hearts be worse nor death. But ’tis to judgment as +they shall be led, now you be comed home, May, and the hand of +God shall catch they when they do crawl like adders upon the +earth. “Ah, and do you mind how ’twas you +served old Vashti, what never did harm to no one all the life of +her,” I shall call out to th’ old woman in that hour +when her shall be burning in the lake. And her shall beg +for a drop of water to lay upon the withered tongue of she, and +it shall be denied, for other hands nor ours be at work, and +’tis the wicked as shall perish—yes, so +’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Who has been bending +forward</i>, <i>looking steadily into the fire</i>.] Stop +that, Mother, I wants to get at my thoughts.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Be you a-going to set +on I, too, May, now that you be comed home. ’Tis poor +work for an old woman like I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>As though to +herself</i>.] And as I was laid beneath the +hedge—“’Tis cold as my limbs is, now,” I +says, “but I shall be warm this night.” And the +pangs what was in the body of me did fairly quail +I—“’Tis my fill of victuals as I shall soon put +within,” thinks I. And they was laid a bit. The +bleakness of the tempest fell on I, but “I shan’t +feel lonesome no longer than this hour,” I telled me. +For to my thinking, Steve, he was waiting all the time till I +should be comed back. And Dorry, too. There +’tis. [<i>A long silence</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I’d have been +content to bide with the door shut—so long as it was shut +with they two and me inside the room—th’ old +woman—well, I count I shouldn’t have took many +thought for she—she could have bided in her place if +she’d had a mind—I’d have set me down, when +once my clothes was decent and clean, and put my hands to the +work and made a tidy wife for Steve, as good nor better than that +there dressed-up thing out yonder—And bred Dorry up the +right way, too, I would. But ’tis done with now, so +’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>As though to +herself</i>.] And when ’tis morning and she gets her +down—“There, ’tis my girl as is mistress here, +I’ll say to her—and ’tis my girl as shall sit +cup end of the table—and you get you to the fire corner and +bide there, like the poor old woman as you be, spite that you do +slip about so spry on the wicked old legs of you.”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And I could set she back +in her place, too, that tricked-up, flashy thing over the +way. I’ve but to climb the stairs and clap my hand on +Steve—“Get you from your dreams,” I have got +but to say, “the woman what’s yourn be comed +home. Her have tasted the cup of death, very near, and her +have been a-thirst and an hungered. But her has carried +summat for you in her heart all the way what you wouldn’t +find in the heart of t’other, no, not if you was to cut it +open and search it through.” And the right belongs to +I to shut the door on t’other hussey, holding Steve to I +till death divides we.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Going on the road I +seed the eyes of they blinking as I did pass by. “And +may the light from out the thunder cloud fall upon you,” I +says to them, “for ’tis a poor old woman as I be what +has lost her child; and what’s that to you if so be as the +shoes on her feet be broken or no? ’Tis naked as the +toes of you shall go, that hour when the days of this world shall +be rolled by. Ah, ’tis naked and set on the lake of +burning fire as the hoofs of you shall run!”</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I could up and screech +so that the house should ring with the sound of me, “I be +your wife, Steve, comed back after these many years. +What’s this that you’ve got doing with +another?” I could take hold on him and make him look +into the eyes of I, yes, and th’ old woman, too. +“See here, your ‘dirty roadster,’ look well on +to her.” “Why, ’tis May.” But +the eyes of him would then be cast so that I should see no more +than a house what has dead within, and the blind pulled +down. And I, what was thinking as there might be a light in +the window!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. “And you may +holler,” I says to them, “you may holler till you be +heard over the face of all the earth, but no one won’t take +no account of you.” And the lies of them which have +turned into ropes of hempen shall come up and strangle +they. But me and my child shall pass by all fatted up and +clothed, and with the last flick, afore the eyelids of they drop, +they shall behold we, and, a-clapping of the teeth of them shall +they repent them of their sins. Too late, too late! +There ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Too late! There +’tis, I be comed home too late.</p> +<p>[<i>She rises and takes up her shawl</i>, <i>wrapping it about +her shoulders</i>, <i>and muttering</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. But I know a dark place +full of water—’Tis Simon’s pool they calls +it—And I warrant as any poor wretch might sleep yonder and +be in quiet.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Be you a-going up to +Steve now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. No, I +bain’t. ’Tis out from here that I be +going. And back on to the road.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. May, my pretty May, +you’re never going for to leave I, what’s such a poor +old woman and wronged cruel. You step aloft and rouse up +Steve. He’ll never have you go upon the roads again +once he do know as you’ve comed back.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Steve! +What’s it to Steve whether the like of I do go or +bide? What be there in I for to quell the love of she which +Steve’s got in him? Dead leaves for new. Ditch +water for the clear spring.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Give him to drink of +it, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Looking upwards to +the ceiling</i>.] No, Steve. Hark you here. I +bain’t a-going to do it. I bain’t going to +knock over the spoonful of sweet what you be carrying to your +mouth. You take and eat of it in quiet and get you filled +with the honey. ’Tain’t my way to snatch from +no one so that the emptiness which I has in me shall be +fed. There, ’tis finished now, very nigh, and the +sharpness done. And, don’t you fear, Steve, as ever +I’ll trouble you no more.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. +[<i>Rising</i>.] I be a-going to fetch him down, and +that’s what I’m a-going for to do.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Pushing her back +into her chair</i>.] Harken you, Steve, he’s never +got to know as I’ve been here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. I tell you, May, +I’ll screech till he do come!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Sitting down by</i> +<span class="smcap">Vashti</span> <i>and laying her hand on +her</i>.] I’ll put summat in your mouth as’ll +stop you if you start screeching, mother. Why, hark you +here. ’Tis enough of this old place as I’ve had +this night, and ’tis out upon the roads as I be +going. Th’ old woman—there’s naught much +changed in she—And Steve—well, Steve be wonderful +hard in the soul of him. “Can I get you an old +sack,” says he—and never so much as seed ’twas +I—Ah—’tis more than enough to turn the stomach +in anyone—that it is. [<i>A slight pause</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I was never a meek one +as could bide at the fireside for long. The four walls of +this here room have very near done for me now, so they +have. And ’tis the air blowing free upon the road as +I craves—Ah, and the wind which hollers, so that the cries +of we be less nor they of lambs new born.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. God bless you, May, +and if you goes beyond the door ’tis the mealy-faced jade +will get in come morning, for Steve to wed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. So ’tis. And +if I stopped ’twould be the same, her’d be between us +always, the pretty cage bird—For look you here on I, +Mother, and here—[<i>pointing to her feet</i>]—and +here—and here—See what’s been done to I +what’s knocked about in the world along the roads, and then +think if I be such a one as might hold the love of Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Beginning to +whine desolately</i>.] O, do not you go for to leave your +old mammy again what has mourned you as if you was dead all the +years. Do not you go for to leave I and the wicked around +of I as might be the venomous beasts in the grass. Stop +with I, my pretty child—Stop along of your old mother, for +the days of I be few and numbered, and the enemies be thick upon +the land.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Hark you here, Mother, +and keep your screeching till another time. I wants to slip +out quiet so as Steve and th’ old woman won’t never +know as I’ve been nigh. And if you keeps your mouth +shut, maybe I’ll drop in at our own place on the hill one +of these days and bide comfortable along of you, only +now—I’m off, do you hear?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. I can’t abide +for you to go. ’Tis more nor I can stand. Why, +if you goes, May, ’tis t’other wench and th’ +old woman what’ll get mistressing it here again in your +place. [<i>Rising up</i>.] No—you shan’t +go. I’ll holler till I’ve waked them every +one—you shan’t! My only child, my pretty +May! Ah, ’tis not likely as you shall slip off +again. ’Tis not.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Look you here, +Mother—bide still, I say. [<i>Looking round the room +distractedly</i>.] See here—’tis rare dry as I +be. You bide quiet and us’ll have a drink together, +that us will. Look, th’ old woman’s forgot to +put away the bottle, us’ll wet our mouths nice and quiet, +mother—she won’t hear I taking out the cork, nor +nothing. See!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>gets up and crosses the +room</i>; <i>she takes the bottle off the shelf where she has +just perceived it</i>, <i>and also two glasses</i>; <i>she fills +one and hands it to her mother</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Stretching out +her hand</i>.] ’Tis rare dry and parched as I be, now +I comes to think on it, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. That’s +right—drink your fill, Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. ’Tis pleasant +for I to see you mistressing it here again, May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Ah, ’tis my own +drink and all, come to that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. So ’tis. +And the tea what she gived me was but ditch water. I seed +her spoon it in the pot, and ’twas not above a half spoon +as her did put in for I, th’ old badger. My eye was +on she, though, and her’ll have it cast up at she when the +last day shall come and the trumpet sound and all flesh stand +quailing, and me and mine looking on at her as is brought to +judgment. How will it be then, you old sinner, says I.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Re-filling the +glass</i>.] Take and drink this little drop more, +mother.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Vashti</span> <i>drinks and then leans +back in her chair again with half closed eyes</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Putting away the +bottle and glasses</i>.] Her’ll sleep very like, +now. And when her wakes, I take it ’twill appear as +though she’d been and dreamt summat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Do you sit a-nigh me, +May. The night be a wild one. I would not have you be +on the roads.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Sitting down beside +her</i>.] O, the roads be fine on nights when the tempest +moves in the trees above and the rain falls into the mouth of you +and lies with a good taste on your tongue. And you goes +quick on through it till you comes to where the lights do blink, +and ’tis a large town and there be folk moving this way and +that and the music playing, and great fowls and horses +what’s got clocks to the inside of they, a-stirring them up +for to run, and girls and men a-riding on them—And the +booths with red sugar and white, all lit and animals that’s +wild a-roaring and a-biting in the tents—And girls +what’s dancing, standing there in satin gowns all over gold +and silver—And you walks to and fro in it all and +’tis good to be there and free—And ’tis better +to be in such places and to come and to go where you have a mind +than to be cooped in here, with th’ old woman and +all—’Tis a fine life as you lives on the +roads—and ’tis a better one nor this, I can tell you, +Mother.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Who has gradually +been falling into sleep</i>.] I count ’tis so. +’Tis prime in the freshening of the day. I count +I’ll go along of you, come morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. That’s it, Mother, +that’s it. Us’ll take a bit of sleep afore we +sets off, won’t us? And when morning comes, +us’ll open the door and go out.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. That’s it, when +’tis day.</p> +<p>[<i>Her head falls to one side of the chair and she is +presently asleep</i>.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>watches her for some +moments</i>. <i>Then she gets up softly and wraps her shawl +round her</i>. <i>The window shews signs of a gray light +outside</i>, <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>goes quietly +towards the outer door</i>. <i>As she reaches it</i>, <span +class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>comes into the room from the +staircase</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Going up to</i> +<span class="smcap">Vashti</span>.] Granny, ’tis the +New Year! I’m come down to see to the fire and to get +breakfast for Dad and Gran’ma. Why, Granny, +you’re sleeping still. And where’s that poor +tramp gone off to? [<i>She looks round the room and then +sees</i> <span class="smcap">May</span> <i>by the door</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, there you +are. Are you going out on the road afore ’tis got +light?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>In a hoarse +whisper</i>.] And that I be. ’Tis very nigh to +daybreak, so ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Stop a moment. +[<i>Calling up the stairs</i>.] Daddy, the tramp woman, +she’s moving off already.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>From +upstairs</i>.] Then give her a bit of bread to take along +of she. I don’t care that anyone should go +an-hungered this day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Turning to</i> +<span class="smcap">May</span>.] There—you bide a +minute whilst I cuts the loaf. My Dad’s going to get +married this day, and he don’t care that anyone should go +hungry.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>comes slowly back into the +room and stands watching</i> <span class="smcap">Dorry</span>, +<i>who fetches a loaf from the pantry and cuts it at the +table</i>. <i>Then she pulls aside the curtain and a dim +light comes in</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. The snow’s very +nigh gone, and ’tis like as not as the sun may come out +presently. Here’s a piece of bread to take along of +you. There, it’s a good big piece, take and eat +it.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">May</span> <i>hesitates an instant</i>, +<i>then she stretches out her hand and takes the bread and puts +it beneath her shawl</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And so there’s +going to be a wedding here to-day?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. ’Tis my Dad as +is to be married.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. ’Tis poor work, is +twice marrying.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. My Dad’s ever so +pleased, I han’t seen him so pleased as I can +remember. I han’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Then maybe the second +choosing be the best.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Yes, +’tis—Gran’ma says as ’tis—and Dad, +he be ever so fond of Miss Sims—and I be, too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Then you’ve no +call to wish as her who’s gone should come back to you, +like?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. What’s that +you’re saying?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. You don’t never +want as your mammy what you’ve lost should be amongst you +as afore?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. I never knowed my +mammy. Gran’ma says she had got summat bad in her +blood. And Granny’s got the same. But Miss +Sims, she’s ever so nice to Dad and me, and I’m real +pleased as she’s coming to stop along of us always after +that they’re married, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. And th’ old woman +what’s your gran’ma, Dorry?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. However did you know +as I was called “Dorry”?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. I heard them call you so +last night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. And whatever do you +want to know about Gran’ma?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. What have her got to say +’bout the—the—wench what’s going to marry +your dad?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, Gran’ma, she +thinks ever such a lot of Miss Sims, and she says as how poor +Dad, what’s been served so bad, will find out soon what +’tis to have a real decent wife, what’ll help with +the work and all, and what won’t lower him by her ways, nor +nothing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. Look you +here—’tis growing day. I must be getting off +and on to the road.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. [<i>Moving to the +door</i>.] I’ll unbolt the door, then. O, +’tis fine and daylight now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Turning back at the +doorway and looking at the room</i>.] I suppose you +wouldn’t like to touch me, for good luck, Dorry?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. No, I +shouldn’t. Gran’ma, she don’t let me go +nigh road people as a rule. She’s a-feared as I +should take summat from them, I suppose.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">May</span>. [<i>Hoarsely</i>, <i>her +hand on the door</i>.] Then just say as you wishes me well, +Dorry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. I’ll wish you a +good New Year, then, and Gran’ma said as I was to watch as +you cleared off the place. [<span class="smcap">May</span> +<i>goes out softly and quickly</i>. <span +class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>watches her until she is out of +sight</i>, <i>and then she shuts the door</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT III.—Scene 1.</h3> +<p><i>The same room</i>. <i>It is nearly mid-day</i>, +<i>and the room is full of sunshine</i>. <span +class="smcap">Jane Browning</span>, <i>in her best dress</i>, +<i>is fastening</i> <span class="smcap">Dorry’s</span> +<i>frock</i>, <i>close to the window</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Dad’s been a +rare long time a-cleaning of his self up, Gran.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Will you bide +still! However’s this frock to get fastened and you +moving this way and that like some live eel—and just see +what a mark you’ve made on the elbow last night, putting +your arm down somewhere where you didn’t ought to—I +might just as well have never washed the thing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Granny’s sound +asleep still—she’ll have to be waked time we goes +along to the church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. That her shan’t +be. Her shall just bide and sleep the drink out of her, her +shall. Do you think as I didn’t find out who +’twas what had got at the bottle as Dad left on the dresser +last night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Poor Gran, she do take +a drop now and then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Shame on th’ old +gipsy. Her shall be left to bide till she have slept off +some of the nonsense which is in her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Granny do say a lot of +funny things sometimes, don’t she, now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. You get and put on your +hat and button your gloves, and let the old gipsy be. We +can send her off home when ’tis afternoon, and us back from +church. Now, where did I lay that bonnet? Here +’tis.</p> +<p>[<i>She begins to tie the strings before a small mirror in the +wall</i>. <span class="smcap">Steve</span> <i>comes +downstairs in his shirt sleeves</i>, <i>carrying his +coat</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Why, Dad, you do look +rare pleased at summat.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. And when’s a man +to look pleased if ’tis not on his wedding morn, Dorry?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. The tramp what was +here did say as how ’twas poor work twice marrying, but you +don’t find it be so, Dad, do you now?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. And that I +don’t, my little wench. ’Tis as nigh heaven as +I be like to touch—and that’s how ’tis with +me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Taking</i> <span +class="smcap">Steve’s</span> <i>coat from him</i>.] +Ah, ’tis a different set out altogether this time. +That ’tis. ’Tis a-marrying into your own rank, +like, and no mixing up with they trolloping gipsies.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Was my own mammy a +trolloping gipsy, Gran?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Beginning to +brush</i> <span class="smcap">Steve’s</span> +<i>coat</i>.] Ah, much in the same pattern as th’ old +woman what’s drunk asleep against the fireside. Here, +button up them gloves, ’tis time we was off.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. I do like Miss +Sims. She do have nice things on her. When I grows up +I’d like to look as she do, so I would.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Jane</span>.] There, Mother, that’ll +do. I’d best put him on now.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. [<i>Holding out the +coat for him</i>.] Well, and you be got yourself up rare +smart, Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. ’Tis rare smart +as I be feeling, Mother. I’m all a kind of a dazzle +within of me, same as ’tis with the sun upon the snow out +yonder.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Why, look you, +there’s George a-coming up the path already.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. He’s wearing of +the flower what Rosie gived him last night.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>Opening the +door</i>.] Good morning, George. A first class New +Year to you. You’re welcome, if ever a man was.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. You bide where you do +stand, George, till your feet is dry. My floor was fresh +wiped over this morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Standing on the +door mat</i>.] All right, Mrs. Browning. Don’t +you fluster. Good morning, Dorry. How be you to-day, +Steve?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. Dorry, come you +upstairs along with me and get your coat put on, so as your frock +bain’t crushed.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, I wish I could go +so that my nice frock was seen and no coat.</p> +<p>[<i>They go upstairs</i>. <span +class="smcap">George</span> <i>rubs his feet on the mat and comes +into the room</i>, <i>walking up and down once or twice +restlessly and in evident distress of mind</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>Who has lit a pipe +and is smoking</i>.] Why, George, be you out of sorts this +morning? You don’t look up to much, and that’s +the truth.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. [<i>Stopping +before</i> <span class="smcap">Steve</span>.] Hark you, +Steve. ’Tis on my mind to ask summat of you. +Did you have much speech with the poor thing what you took in +from the snow last night?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. No, George, and that I +didn’t. Her was mostly in a kind of drunken sleep all +the time, and naught to be got out from she. Mother, her +tried. But ’twas like trying to get water from the +pump yonder, when ’tis froze.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Your mother’s a +poor one at melting ice, Steve, and ’tis what we all +knows.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Ah, +’twasn’t much as we could do for the likes of +she—what was a regular roadster. Bad herbs, all of +them. And if it hadn’t been so as ’twas my +wedding eve, this one shouldn’t have set foot inside of the +house. But ’tis a season when a man’s took a +bit soft and foolish, like, the night afore his marriage. +Bain’t that so, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. And when was it, +Steve, as she went off from here?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. That I couldn’t +rightly say, George, but I counts ’twas just upon +daybreak. And ’twas Dorry what seed her off the place +and gived her a piece of bread to take along of her.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. And do you think as +she got talking a lot to Dorry, Steve?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. I’m blest if I +do know, George. I never gived another thought to +she. What’s up?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. They was getting the +body of her from out of Simon’s Pool as I did come +by. That’s all.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. From Simon’s +Pool, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I count her must have +went across the plank afore ’twas fairly daylight. +And, being slippery, like, from the snow, and +her—her—as you did say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. In liquor.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I reckon as her +missed her footing, like.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, upon my word, +George, who’d have thought on such a thing!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. I count as her had +been in the water and below the ice a smartish while afore they +catched sight of she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, ’tis a +cold finish to a hot life.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. They took and laid +her on the grass, Steve, as I comed by.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. If it had been me, +I’d have turned the head of me t’other side.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. There was summat in +the fashion her was laid, Steve, as drawed I near for to get a +sight of the face of she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, I +shouldn’t have much cared for that, George.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Steve—did you +get a look into the eyes of yon poor thing last night?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. No, nor wanted for to, +neither.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. There was naught to +make you think of—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Of what, George?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. There—Steve, I +can’t get it out, I can’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Then let it bide +in.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Twas the way +her was laid, and the long arms of she, and the hands which was +clapped one on t’other, as it might be in church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>Looking through +the window</i>.] You shut up, George. Here’s +Annie with Rose a-coming up to the door. Don’t you +get saying another word about yon poor wretch nor the end of +her. I wouldn’t have my Annie upset for all the world +to-day. ’Tis a thing as must not be spoke of afore +they, nor Dorry neither, do you hear?</p> +<p>[<i>He moves towards the door and puts his hand to the +latch</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Hold back, Steve, a +minute. There’s summat more as I’ve got to +say.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. You take and shut your +mouth up, old George, afore I opens the door to the girls.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. ’Tis bound for +to come from me afore you goes along to church, Steve.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. I warrant ’twill +keep till us do come home again, George.</p> +<p>[<i>He throws the door wide open with a joyous +movement</i>. <span class="smcap">Annie</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>in white dresses stand +outside</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Well, Annie, this is a +rare surprise, and that’s the truth. [<span +class="smcap">Annie</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Rose</span> <i>come into the room</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Father, he’s +outside, and Jim and Bill and Katie, and all the rest. We +said as ’twould be pleasanter if we was all to go up +together along to the church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. So ’twould +be—so ’twould be—’Twas a grand thought of +yourn, Rosie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. Steve—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. [<i>Taking her +hand</i>.] Annie, I’m fair beside myself this +day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. O, Steve, there was +never a day in my life like this one. [<span +class="smcap">Dorry</span> <i>and</i> <span +class="smcap">Jane</span> <i>come down</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, Miss Sims, you do +look nice! Gran’ma, don’t Miss Sims look +nice? And Rosie, too. O, they have nice gowns and +hats on, haven’t they, Dad?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. I don’t see no +gowns nor hats, and that’s the truth. But I sees +summat what’s like—what’s like a meadow of +grass in springtime afore the sun’s got on to it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Why, Dad, ’tis +white, not green, as Miss Sims is wearing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. ’Tis in the eyes +of her as I finds my meadow.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, let me see, Dad, +let me look, too!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Going up to</i> +<span class="smcap">George</span>, <i>who has been standing aloof +and moody in the background</i>.] Come, Mr. Davis, we must +have a look, too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. ’Get along, get +along. We han’t time for such foolishness. It +be close on twelve already.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Annie</span>. O, let me be, all of +you! I declare, I don’t know which way to look, I +don’t.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. I’ll show you, +Annie, then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">George</span>.] Well, Mr. Davis, you +don’t seem over bright this morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. ’Tis with the +nerves as he be took!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. Look at what +he’s wearing in his buttonhole, Rosie.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. ’Tis kept +beautiful and fresh.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Come on, come on, all +of you. ’Tis time we was at the church.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. Hark to him! +He’s in a rare hurry for to get out of the house +to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. Bain’t the old +lady a-coming?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>. That she bain’t, +the old drinking gipsy—’tis at the spirits as her got +in the night—and put away very near the best part of a +bottle. Now she’s best left to sleep it off, she +be.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Steve</span>. Come on, George. +Come, Dorry.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Dorry</span>. O, isn’t it a +pity as Granny will get at the drink, Mr. Davis? And +isn’t Miss Sims nice in her white dress? And +don’t Dad look smiling and pleased? I never did know +Dad smile like this afore.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">George</span>. +[<i>Heavily</i>.] Come on, Dorry—you take hold of +me. You and me, we’ll keep nigh one to t’other +this day, won’t us?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Rose</span>. [<i>Calling from +outside</i>.] Come on, Mr. Davis.</p> +<p>[<i>They all go out</i>.</p> +<h3>ACT III.—Scene 2.</h3> +<p><i>Nearly an hour later</i>. <i>The cottage room is full +of sunlight</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti Reed</span> <i>is awake and gazing +vacantly about her from the same chair by the fire</i>. +<i>Someone knocks repeatedly at the door from outside</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And ’tis no bit +of rest as I gets for my bones, but they must come and hustle I +and call I from the dreams which was soft. [<i>The knocking +is heard again</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. And I up and says to +they, “Ah, and you would hustle a poor old woman +what’s never harmed so much as a hair out of the ugly heads +of you. You would hunt and drive of her till she be very +nigh done to death. But there shall come a day when you +shall be laid down and a-taking of your bit of rest, and the +thing what you knows of shall get up upon you and smite you till +you do go screeching from the house, and fleeing to the uttermost +part of the land—whilst me and mine—”</p> +<p>[<i>The door opens and</i> <span class="smcap">Harry +Moss</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Beg pardon, old +Missis, but I couldn’t make no one hear me.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Seeing as them be +sick of the abomination which was inside of they. +[<i>Perceiving</i> <span class="smcap">Harry</span>.] Well, +and what be you as is comed into this room?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. ’Tis Moss as I +be called, old Missis. And as I was a-going by this place, +I thought as I’d look in a moment, just for to ask how +’twas with May.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. They be all gone out +from the house. All of them. They be in clothes what +do lie in boxes most of the time with lumps of white among +they. Them be set out in the best as they has, and in grand +things of many colours. There ’tis.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. And be you th’ +old lady what’s Steve’s mother?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. I be not, sir. +’Tis mother to May as I be. May, what’s comed +back, and what’ll set t’other old vixen in her place +soon as they get home.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Then May, she be gone +out, too, have her?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Looking round +vaguely</i>.] Ah, I counts as her be gone to church along +of t’other.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. To church, Missis?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. There’s +marrying being done down here to-day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Marrying, be +there? Well, but I was ’most feared as how it might +have been t’other thing.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Ah, that there +be—marrying. But there bain’t no more victuals +got into the house as I knows of. Th’ old +woman’s seen to that.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. And be May gone out, +too, along of them to see the marrying?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Ah, I counts as her +be. But her’s a-coming back in a little while, and +you may sit down and bide till she does.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I’d sooner be +about and on my way, Missis, if ’tis all the same to +you. But I thanks you kindly. And you get and tell +May when she do come home, that ’tis particular glad I be +for to know as her bain’t took worse, nor nothing. +And should I happen in these parts again, ’tis very likely +as I’ll take a look in on she some day.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Ah, her’ll have +got t’other old baggage set in the right place by then.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. [<i>Looking round +him</i>.] Well, I be rare pleased to think of May so +comfortable, like, for her was got down terrible low.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. +T’other’ll be broughted lower.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Look you here, old +Missis, ’tis a stomach full of naught as I carries. +If so be as you has a crust to spare—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Pointing to a +door</i>.] There be a plate of meat inside of that +cupboard. You take and fill your belly with it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Thank you kindly, +Missis, but I counts I han’t the time for heavy feeding +this morning.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. ’Twould serve +she right, th’ old sinner, for the place to be licked up +clean, against the time when her was come’d back, so +’twould.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. Well, Missis, you can +tell May ’tis a brave New Year as I do wish she.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Listening to +bells which are heard suddenly ringing</i>.] There, there +they be! Harken to them! ’Tis with bells as +they be coming out. Bells what’s ringing. I +count ’tis fine as May do look now in her marriage +gown. Harken, ’tis the bells a-shaking of the window +pane. I be an old woman, but the hearing of me bain’t +spoiled.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. I warrant it +bain’t, Missis. Why, they’re ringing wonderful +smart. ’Tis enough, upon my word, for to fetch down +every stone of the old place.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. Get you out upon the +garden path and tell I if you sees them a-coming.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. That’s it, old +Missis, and so I will.</p> +<p>[<i>He goes outside the house</i>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Vashti</span>. [<i>Sitting upright +and looking with fixed vacancy before her</i>.] And when +they was all laid low and the heads of them bowed. +“You would, would you,” I says, for they was lifting +the ends of their ugly mouths at I. And I passed among they +and them did quail and crouch, being with fear. And me and +mine did reach the place what was on the top. “See +now yourselves,” I says, “if so be that you do not go +in blindness and in dark.” ’Twas May what stood +there aside of I. And “Look you,” I says, +“over the bended necks of you my child shall pass. +For you be done to death by the lies which growed within you and +waxed till the bodies of you was fed with them and the poison did +gush out from your lips.” But my little child stood +in the light, and the hands of her was about the stars.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span>. [<i>Coming +in</i>.] Look, they be all a-coming over the meadow, old +Missis. But May han’t comed with they—May +han’t come too.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>The wedding party enters the +room as the curtain falls</i>.]</p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> “<i>As I walked +Out</i>.” <i>From Folk Songs from Essex collected by +R. Vaughan Williams</i>. <i>The whole</i>, <i>or two verses +can be sung</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2" +class="footnote">[2]</a> “The Seeds of Love,” +“Folk Songs from Somerset,” edited by Cecil J. Sharp +and Charles L. Marsden.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX PLAYS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 5618-h.htm or 5618-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/6/1/5618 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive +specific permission. 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